


Like Hand and Glove

by megamindful



Series: Hearts on Our Sleeves [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-06-13 09:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 37,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15361404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megamindful/pseuds/megamindful
Summary: Bruce Wayne doesn’t have a soulmate. He’s been bare-wristed all his life. Chosen by fate to be alone... but fate never planned on Clark Kent.





	1. Weird Weather in Gotham

 

The river between Gotham and Metropolis is filled thick with sludge. The sky glows a dark purple against a red crescent moon. Bruce is crouched on top of an old gargoyle. He’s missing a gauntlet. Nightwing lands beside him. He’s twelve and the mask slips off his face.

“Bruce, where is he?”

_Where is who?_

The building starts to shake and the gargoyle crumbles beneath him. Dick watches him fall silently. Bruce reaches for his grappling-hook. It isn’t there. An overwhelming sense of dread and panic stabs into his throat.

* * *

 

Bruce woke with a start. He could still feel the shaking. _An earthquake? Not likely._

He grunted, untangling himself from his sheets and bounded to the window. He threw open the curtain and balked at what he saw. An enormous star shaped mass cast a shadow over the grounds of Wayne Manor. Its slow trajectory was heading straight for Gotham’s city-center. The sight of it was enough to cut through the groggy aftermath of a rough short sleep.

_What the fuck._

Bruce ran towards the Batcave. Alfred was hurrying down the hallway as well, catching busts and vases before they could clatter to the floor.

“Good to see you’re awake, Master Bruce. I was starting to think you would sleep through all the excitement.”

Bruce grunted. 

_Just another regular morning, right, Alfred?_

* * *

 

A quick costume change and a car ride later, Bruce was grappling to the top of a skyscraper. The star shaped mass had slowed down, lessening its seismic impact on the ground and buildings beneath it. Upon closer inspection, Bruce could see it wasn’t a ship as he had been expecting, but a living organism. The five points of its mass, it’s limbs, barely moved. However, a constant undulating motion ran across its underbelly, created by thousands of rod like feelers.

_What the fuck._

Bruce watched as a circle shaped opening on the starfish’s middle released several somethings into the air. The small masses fell down into the gawking crowds on the city streets. Bruce jumped off the building to intervene. He was gliding down when he saw a starfish about the size of a cat latch onto a screaming woman’s face.

“Get inside!”

Batman’s yell and the civilians getting a starfish to the face convinced people to head for cover.

Bruce grabbed at the starfish on the first woman’s face. A piercing red eyeball opened up on its purple back and the woman’s terrified mouth turned down in a scowl.

“STARRO THE CONQUEROR WILL NOT BE MANHANDLED AWAY.”

The voice boomed out of the woman’s mouth. Sure enough the starfish stayed fixed over her face no matter how hard Bruce tugged. Meanwhile, more and more civilians who had not made it inside were turning a red eye on Batman.

Groups of people controlled by starfish were attempting to keep as many people in the street as possible. Others were dragging people out from the stores and restaurants they were hiding in.

Bruce dodged out of the way of a descending starfish. It flew back towards him and Bruce attempted to block it with his arm. It latched onto him instead, weighing the limb down.

_Shit, but I’m still myself… They need skin to skin contact._

Bruce was tugged back by a Starro-controlled man. He flipped him onto his back, releasing his hold. More people started to advance on him.

“WHY DELAY THE INEVITABLE. YOU WILL SUCCUMB LIKE THE REST.”

Bruce dodged a few people throwing themselves at him, but it was starting to become a mob. Another starfish flew towards his face.

“THIS PUNY CITY IS JUST THE START OF MY NEW EMPIRE.”

Bruce switched on the shock settings on his gauntlets just in time to grab the incoming starfish out of the air. It started to clamp around his fingers before Bruce set off the electrical charge. Its body convulsed, arms spreading wide, before it dropped to the ground. Bruce dislodged the other starfish on his arm with a second charge. Free for the moment, he grappled away from the quickly encroaching hoard.

Safe on a roof, Bruce took in the situation. Hoards were starting to break down doors and windows to get at the uncontrolled people inside. At least for now it seemed no one was being _physically_ harmed. There had to be a way to take them out faster than one by one.

Bruce’s train of thought was interrupted by a gust of wind behind him.

“Weird weather in Gotham today.”

Bruce recognized the voice immediately. It had been almost ten years since Superman had started patrolling the skies of Metropolis. Despite Gotham’s close proximity, Bruce had managed to avoid a formal introduction. This would be the first time Bruce had not made a hasty exit before an actual conversation could start.

“Why are you here?”

“Looked like you could use some help. I could see this thing from my house.”

Bruce had been forming a plan as he grappled up here, but some help might actually be… helpful.

“I _suppose_ you could help.”

“What’s the plan?”

“They’re a hive mind. Controlled by the main one.” Bruce typed on his wrist display as he talked. “We get rid of the big one, the rest should follow.”

“Should?”

“You have any better guesses?”

“I may not be from Earth, but I’ve never seen something like this before.”

“Well, I’ve got an idea.”

“Ok. What do I do?”

“Lure it away from the city. If this works it’ll flatten anything underneath it. Keep your distance and do _not_ let any of _them_ touch you.”

“And you’ll be doing, what-” Bruce jumped off the edge of the building without a glance back to Superman. Bruce landed in the BatJet and took off towards Starro, leaving Superman with the heat of his jet’s exhaust.

“Alright.” Superman shook off the abrupt exit. “‘ _Away from the city._ ’”

Superman shot off like a bullet, taking care to avoid the starfish as he made his way over Starro. The top of the alien was much the same as the smaller versions, a large red eye in its middle.

“Hey!” Superman shot a laser blast at its side when his voice was not enough to draw its attention. “These people are not yours to control.”

The great red eye turned lazily to Superman, studying him.

_“OH, HELLO.”_ The voice seemed to emanate from everywhere at once. _“YOU ARE JUST WHAT I NEED.”_

A flock of starfish shot out towards him. Bruce watched on from the cockpit as he circled the scene. Superman flew away from the flock, bobbing and weaving as he continued to coax Starro out towards the river with blasts from his heat vision. Bruce readied the equipment, triple checking his readings. A thunk on the windshield proved Bruce wasn’t as ignored as he thought he was.

_Shit. Can’t use windshield wipers on that._

The orange underbelly of the starfish was plastered onto the glass and more were incoming. Bruce flew away from the fray for now, not wanting to risk losing his visibility completely. He would have to keep a watch on Superman’s progress from a distance.

After several minutes of slow and careful coaxing, Starro was completely over the river. Bruce flew closer and Superman whizzed by overhead, ever-growing flock of starfish in tow.

“Your turn!”

Bruce flicked the switch to open the hatch under the BatJet and flew over Starro. The relatively small device dropped down, lodging squarely in Starro’s eye. A cord connecting it to the jet unfurled.

_“YOU ARE BARELY DUST IN MY EYE. GIVE IT UP.”_

Bruce pounded down on a button and the charge was set off.

The noise of pain Starro made rattled the siding on the Batjet with its force. Starro convulsed, arms pin straight, before plummeting down into the river. The splash nearly reached the jet. Bruce released the cable before the jet could be yanked down with him. The flocks of starfish stuttered before stopping and crashing down as well.

Superman landed on the nearby bridge between the cities. Bruce set the autopilot to go back to the cave before hopping out, gliding to meet him. Superman turned when he landed, greeting him with a genuine smile.  
  
“Good thinking out there! We make a pretty good team.”

Superman held out his hand to Batman.

Bruce eyed the offer for a moment before accepting.

_Firm, but not showing off._

Bruce caught himself flicking his gaze down to Superman’s covered wrist. Force of habit. He couldn’t help but be curious what the alien’s soulmark would look like... if he even had a soulmark. After all, Bruce, despite all reason for him to, didn’t have one.


	2. Cold-Hearted By Nature

Alfred always knew Bruce to be an aloof child, even before his parents’ grisly murder. One could say it was a common fate for a child often dressed in suits. There wasn’t much time for play-dates and Bruce was often marked down in class. Never for grades, but for at times trying to discipline the other students who were not following the rules. “He’s a good kid.” The teachers would say. “He means well, but he doesn’t respect authority.”

After the loss of Bruce’s parents, it took months for Alfred to gain custody. There were no relatives to take him in and Alfred would be damned if he left that boy alone. It was difficult to say the least. A guardian without a match? How stable could he be? As if 25 years of service to the Wayne family wasn’t enough proof of _stability._ He had had to enlist the help of Dr. Leslie Thompkins, Bruce’s godmother, to help him prove he was fit to raise the boy.

Bruce’s teenage years were especially rough on him. Thoughts of vigilantism had been brewing for awhile, but now they were materializing in plans and reckless behavior. Alfred had to reason with him weekly to at least get through college. If any of Bruce’s fantasies were to work he’d have to have a cover story. Bruce wouldn’t get allowed to sit as CEO of Wayne Enterprises without a degree in _something._

By the time he was fourteen, Bruce was growing into the kind of boy you couldn’t knock over. It was then Bruce started to ask Alfred about his soulmark or lack thereof. Many of his peers had started getting theirs, either showing anyone who would give them the time of day or hiding them behind a bracelet for privacy. Alfred advised him to be patient, a soulmark was one of the few things he couldn’t will into existence. Anyway, getting your soulmark was much like getting a lock with no key. There was no guarantee you would ever find your other half. For one, Alfred never did.

Alfred assumed Bruce had finally gotten his mark at fifteen when he started wearing a thick black bracelet. It wasn’t until a decade later when Bruce came back from his first rough night as Batman that he saw the truth. Bruce had never gotten a soulmark. Even at twenty-five his wrist was bare. He had been keeping that grief from Alfred for so long. How many times had Alfred teased Bruce about finding his match one day and having to settle down?

It wasn’t completely unheard of to never develop a soulmark, but it certainly wasn’t common. It was hard to pinpoint a reason for it. Little study had gone into the phenomenon. Some thought it meant their match died before puberty. Others thought it implied a person just never had a soulmate to begin with.

It made sense that Bruce would keep it under wraps. His close friends already thought he was distant without knowing he was _bare-wristed._ Not to mention if it ever got out to the public, he’d be considered a Scrooge at _best._ You were hard-pressed to find a story about someone bare-wristed that ended with redemption. They were typically the villains, cold-hearted by nature.

The way to find a romantic partner you weren’t matched with was… tedious and not sought out by many. Bruce was nothing if not efficient and Alfred knew he would never find the process worth the hassle. His playboy behavior made so much more sense. It wasn’t a phase he would grow out of when he found his match. It would likely be how his whole life would pan out romantically. People would find it fun to play with the billionaire for a night, but they would always move on in favor of the one who was _made_ for them.

At the end of the day Alfred saw it as another tragedy in Bruce’s series of tragedies. Another facet to his life that would mark him as “alone.”

* * *

 

Bruce looked back up and caught Superman glancing down at his covered wrist. He had had the bracelet lined with lead years ago along with his cowl. He didn’t need any x-ray vision outing his defect. Superman’s smile didn’t falter.

A splash from the river broke their handshake.

“Hey!” A blonde man suspended on a wave shook a trident towards the half submerged Starro. “ _That_ is one fish that does not belong in the water!”

“Sorry, Aquaman!” Superman turned back to Batman. “How _do_ we get rid of it? We can’t risk anyone touching it.”

“I know a guy.” Bruce had already wired the call to his head-set. “Hal? I’m cashing in on that favor.”


	3. Sounds Chaotic

“Of course the second I go back to school a fucking _alien_ flies into town!” Dick had called Bruce the second he woke up. He had slept through the whole thing after a long night of ‘studying.’

“Which one? The one in tights or the giant starfish?”

“ _Ha ha_ , Bruce.” Dick watched the news footage of the Green Lantern fishing the massive starfish out of the bay in a glowing green sphere. “Are you sure you don’t need some backup on patrols?”

“We have it covered.”

“We?”

“Stay in school.”

Bruce disconnected the call on his communicator and went back into the meeting room. A moving crew Bruce hired was busy setting up furniture and equipment. Superman was watching them work, arms crossed.

“This all seems like… a lot. Do we really need a formal meeting place?”

“Should we convene at the local Denny’s?” Superman laughed out of surprise. “We aren’t exactly low profile.”

“I guess you’re right. It still seems like a lot to me.” Bruce huffed a laugh. “What?”

“This is just a temporary base.”

“Oh?”

“As this operation gets bigger, we’ll need a base no civilian could just Uber to.”

“Where would that be?”

“Space.”

“Space?”

Batman grunted assent and flipped through the box of files on the table. Superman looked out the window. The repurposed office towered over Metropolis. There was a clear view over the city and Gotham could be seen in the distance.

“How are we funding this?”

“Anonymous donor.”

“You don’t know who he is?”

“I do.” Bruce looked up and saw Superman’s expectant face. “He’d like to remain anonymous.”

“Right… and he has enough money to donate to _space exploration._ ” Superman looked over Batman’s shoulder at the documents. On top of the pile was a handwritten list.  “Have we decided on a name yet?”

“I’m partial to this one.” Bruce pointed.

“‘ _The Justice League.’_ ” Superman rolled the thought of it over. “You sure you don’t like ‘The Super Friends?’”

Superman referred to the option Flash had scrawled onto the page during the meeting.

“‘Super Acquaintances’ would be more accurate.”

“I’m sure we’ll all be friends sooner or later.”

Bruce grunted. _This isn’t play time. This is a job._

* * *

  
  
Over the next month the Justice League was formed, combining Batman and Superman’s contacts they had made in the past ten years of vigilantism and super-heroing. It took about as long for the remaining starfish to be rounded up around the city. They were inactive with Starro out of range to telepathically control them. Green Lantern had taken Starro to an off-planet prison equipped to contain aliens of his size and power.

The League had started holding bi-weekly meetings to get acquainted and touch-base. Bruce would typically leave soon after these meetings, always on call to juggle his secret identity. Today however, Bruce decided to pick up his second cup of coffee for the day in the Justice League break room.

Wonder Woman and Flash were sitting at the table. She had a bracer removed, revealing not just one, but an array of soulmarks.

“They amuse you?”

“There’s… just so many of them.” Flash scanned her arm, in awe of the sleeve they were starting to make on her.

Bruce picked a plain mug out of the cabinet and poured himself some coffee.

“Yes…” Wonder Woman turned her arm, each mark bringing a memory to the front of her mind. Some were clear and fully formed, but most were faded. When she spoke next her voice sounded distant. “I’ve been on this Earth for a long time... I have been blessed with many soulmates to match. Here,” She stilled her arm and pointed. “I can see a new mark coming into form.”

Flash was wide eyed.

“You’re going to need to get bigger bracelets!”

She shot him a sobering expression.

“I do not wear these to hide parts of myself.”

Bruce smirked at Flash’s embarrassment and turned his attention to Superman who had just entered the room. Noticing his gaze, Superman smiled and walked over to Batman.

“Coffee break?”

Bruce grunted.

“Sounds good to me. ‘ _Justice never sleeps,_ ’ right?”

Bruce grunted again.

Superman grabbed a mug and poured himself a cup. _Two creams, one sugar._ Bruce caught himself glancing at Superman’s covered wrist again.

“I’m curious.” Bruce set his mug down on the counter. Superman looked up at him expectantly. “Martian Manhunter’s species found their soulmates through the first words they would speak to each-other. What kind of custom was there for Kryptonians?”

Superman hesitated for a moment and Bruce almost apologized for the unprompted questioning.

“Krypton didn’t have soulmates.”

Bruce blinked.

“Explain.”

“From what I’ve read, people would just pick someone they liked, married, and hoped for the best.”

Bruce eyed the scraps on the counter from the sugar packet and the creamers.

“Sounds chaotic.”

“Ha, _sure_.” Superman put the trash away. “Sounds sort of exciting too... anyone you meet could have the potential to be the person you need most. Seeing a mark on someone when you first meet… it’s sort of like skipping to the last page in a book.”

“Mm.” _Still sounds messy. Inefficient._ Bruce thought over his sip of coffee. “So, you don’t have a mark.”

Superman’s smile faltered a bit before extending his hand and pulling his sleeve down to show him the bare wrist.

“Guilty.”

“What was it like?” Bruce asked the question before he thought better of it.

“Sorry?”

“Growing up. Like that.”

“Well I’d like to say that dealing with the super-strength and laser eyes and everything else was more on my mind… but you know how it is…” Bruce tensed. “I mean _you_ don’t _know,_ but- um- every movie ends with the soulmates getting together, right? I knew I was never going to have that. And when you’re a teenager… that’s the kind of thing you fixate on.” Superman looked away, getting a bit embarrassed. “Sure I knew I was an alien, but I pass for human in every other way- on the outside... I’m just missing a little patch of color right here.” He rubbed his wrist and Bruce willed himself to not reflexively do the same.

 _Incomplete._ Bruce never had someone he could relate to with this… particular insecurity. The impulse to tell him they had this burden in common nagged at him. But Superman had a reason for not having a soulmate; He wasn’t from this _planet_. Bruce on the other hand, he was just… defective. It would be too much to share. Too much of himself to give away to someone he barely knew.

“Batman?”

Bruce cleared his throat.

“Sorry, it’s just… interesting.”

“Too weird?”

“No, that’s Martian Manhunter.”

Superman laughed and Bruce hid his smile behind his coffee.

“I thought ‘jokes’ were your greatest enemy, Batman?”

 _Heh. Greatest enemy_.

“Don’t let _him_ hear that. Wouldn’t want him to develop a complex.”

Superman’s smile could light up the whole room.

“Two in a row? Don’t wear yourself out.”

Bruce felt the corners of his mouth lift up despite himself. Superman was good company: dependable and not too intimidated by Bruce’s cold exterior to joke with him. It was… nice.

“Damn!” Flash’s outburst drew Bruce’s attention and his mouth slid back into a thin line.

“What is it?” Wonder Woman drew herself up, at the ready.

“Had a bet with Hal; Batman couldn’t smile.” Flash mumbled.

“Batman can hear you.”

Flash jumped.

“Right! Sorry! I gotta uh-” And like that Flash was gone and the three left in the room shared a laugh, Superman placing a hand on Batman's shoulder.


	4. You Look Like You've Seen a Ghost

It had been several months since the League was formed and Bruce was getting… comfortable. He looked forward to the biweekly meetings as a chance to be himself in a group. Or at least a version of himself that was closer to the real thing. Secret identities hadn’t been officially discussed, but some league members were on a first name basis with each other. Bruce, of course, was not one such member.

Despite this, Bruce had come to trust their merry band of misfits. He had contingency plans for everyone in the event of someone going rogue, but he did rely on their ability to work as a unit. Superman had become a close ally, a co-captain of the league. There was a lot Bruce had come to notice and appreciate about him: how humble he was, his kind heart, the lock of hair that never seemed to be able to be smoothed down, the way he laughed with his whole body, the way his suit left little to the-

_Be professional. You are colleagues._

Bruce was sorting through his notes from the meeting over a cup of coffee. There were a few minor villains making waves, but nothing the league members couldn’t solve individually. Bruce heard some laughing from the other side of the room and looked up to see Superman and Wonder Woman. Before turning to leave, Superman grabbed a pair of glasses out of his pocket and put them on.

“Well, duty calls!”

Wonder Woman laughed and smacked his arm as he left. Bruce, meanwhile, nearly choked on his coffee.

_Clark. Clark Kent._

* * *

 

 

It was the party celebrating the renovation of the Wayne Enterprises building, nearly eight years ago. Bruce had just taken the CEO role formally at twenty-seven. There was a lot of talk about if he was mature enough for the position, especially with his playboy reputation starting to creep up on him. He was guilty, but it did nothing to make him less qualified.

There were hoards of reporters there that night, hoping he’d slip up and say something he’d regret to see in the paper the next day. There was only one who caught his attention positively.

“Excuse me, Mr. Wayne? Clark Kent, Daily Planet.”

Bruce was of course familiar with the paper, but he had never seen this reporter before. Clark Kent, a man about his age who almost melted into the crowd. He was hunched meekly, making what could be a considerable form nonthreatening. Bruce suspected the way his clothes were a size too big was more than a poor fashion choice. What Bruce appreciated most , however, was how his smile reached his eyes. All the other reporters hovering around him smiled like birds of prey. Speaking of which…

“Bruce Wayne! Is it true you’ve never cooked your own meal or done your own laundry? Will your butler also be taking the reins in running the company?” The hawk swooped right in front of Kent, tape recorder in hand, hungry for a response.

Bruce didn’t even glance at her, holding his hand out past her.

“Clark, was it?”

Clark smiled and shook his hand.

_Firm, but not showing off._

“Yes, sir.”

Bruce smiled easily.

“Please, call me Bruce. How would you like an exclusive?”

Clark grew an inch in posture as Bruce motioned for him to follow. He led him to a section of the party with some seating and security. It was a section made to give the celebrities a _break_ from the press. Bruce brought them to a relatively quiet corner near a back hallway. Clark sat a polite distance away from him on the couch and pulled out a notepad.

“No tape recorder?”

“I’m more old school…” Clark straightened up. _Right to business then?_ “so, how long have you been preparing to take on this position?”

“Almost ten years now. By the time I was in high school I knew I wanted to take care of my family’s legacy.”

“What does the Wayne family legacy mean for you?”

“As most know, my parents dedicated their time to giving back to the community. My father with his work as a physician and my mother by organizing charity events. The Wayne legacy is Gotham: its people and its wellbeing.”

The line of questioning continued with no passive aggressive remarks on Clark’s end. It seemed he actually wanted to give Bruce a fair shot. If he was going to say something stupid he could say it without being goaded into it.

The conversation soon traveled into less formal territory. Clark was smart and quick-witted and Bruce found himself relaxing into the couch.

“Clark, how are you enjoying the party?”

“More, now.”

_That’s settled then._

“Are you up for a little…” Bruce cocked his head roguishly, “investigative journalism?”

“How do you mean?” He pushed his glasses up.

“Follow me.”

Bruce got up and led Clark down a hallway, opening up a door to a private room with a key card.

“So what’s in here-” Bruce closed the door by pushing Clark back against it. “Uh.”

Bruce pulled away a few inches.

“Is this ok, Clark?”

“I- yes.”

Bruce leaned in slowly, giving Clark time to back out if he wanted. Instead Clark ducked forward the rest of the way, their lips locking. It played on the line between rough and sweet. Bruce’s hand found its way into Clark’s back pocket. Despite the hammer in Bruce’s chest he kept it chaste. He leaned back, satisfied with the blush on Clark’s cheeks and how it took a moment for him to open his eyes.

“If you really want to find out how _mature_ I am… come find me later.” Bruce pushed the hotel room key further down his pocket to make sure he got the hint. He went back to the party, leaving Clark speechless.

Bruce had changed his mind half-way through the kiss. If Kent was like the rest of the men and women Bruce had seduced by similar means they would have been fucking by now. Clark was different than them, like he actually wanted to get to know _Bruce._ Earnestness like that didn’t deserve to get fucked against a wall...yet... and Bruce actually wanted to give him a chance to escape if he wanted to. He had said yes, but Bruce new how intimidating he could be.

\----

Bruce didn’t see Clark again until he looked through the peephole of his hotel room door. The reporter had knocked instead of letting himself in with the key. Now he was fighting with a strand of hair that refused to stay down.

_Cute._

Bruce opened the door and Clark was standing in a way that Bruce figured was supposed to look casual and charming. In any case, it was endearing.

“Clark! You found me.”

Bruce leaned an arm against the doorframe, closing into Clark’s space.

“You made yourself easy to find.” Clark handed the key to him.

Bruce took it and threw it over his shoulder. He then grabbed Clark’s tie and drew him into the room. Clark closed the door behind him, not taking his eyes off Bruce. His cheeks were starting to flush already, but his eyes were more confident than earlier.

_Good._

Bruce tugged Clark forward so their mouths met. Clark pushed back against him and Bruce cupped his face. With his other hand, Bruce started to take off Clark’s blazer. Clark let it drop to the floor and licked into Bruce’s mouth. He tasted like the cup of coffee he downed minutes earlier.

They continued to kiss as Bruce unbuttoned Clark’s shirt. Bruce started to lead him backwards to the bed, only pausing their kissing to sneak in a breath. With Clark’s shirt unbuttoned Bruce fit his hands onto his bare hips. Before Clark could slip a hand under Bruce’s shirt, Bruce tossed Clark onto the bed in a quick turn.

Clark bounced on the mattress and looked shocked for a second before laughing and inching farther onto the bed. His shoes were kicked onto the floor.

“So those muscles are good for something after all?”

Bruce smiled. He took in Clark’s form under his open shirt now that it was illuminated by the bedside light.

“How about yours?” Bruce’s shoes joined Clark’s. “Those help with reporting?”

“I, uh, worked on a farm.”

Clark shirked off his button-up. Bruce now spotted the old watch covering his soulmark wrist. His own wrist was covered with an industrial looking black bracelet. They wouldn’t be coming off tonight.

Bruce climbed onto the bed, straddling him. Clark set his hands on his hips. Bruce ducked down for some more kisses, sucking at Clark’s lower lip. Clark tugged at Bruce’s shirt.

Bruce leaned back onto his knees and pulled his t-shirt off to toss it aside. He heard Clark breathe out. His eyes were wide as his hands reached out to study the scars on Bruce’s chest. He had only been a vigilante for two years, but it was plenty of time to get beat up.

“How did you-”

“Clumsy.” Bruce murmured the excuse and drowned out any more investigating with his tongue.

Clark was happy to drop the subject. Bruce did some exploring of his own along Clark’s muscled back. He hummed into Clark’s mouth, liking what he found. Clark shifted his legs and Bruce groaned at the long anticipated friction against his crotch. The heat built up exponentially with Bruce grinding down on him. Bruce sucked Clark’s tongue into his mouth for a beat, then drew back. They were both panting.

”How do you want to do this?” Bruce's gaze wandered from Clark’s blown out eyes to the tent in his pants. “You’re the guest.”

Clark licked his lips and thought on it, his eyes darting from Bruce’s face then down his body.

“Can I uh,” Clark swallowed. “ride you?”

Bruce grew harder at the thought.

“That works.”

Bruce got a condom and the lube from the drawer while Clark got his pants off.

Bruce turned back to see Clark naked apart from his glasses and watch, fixing his hair. It was incredibly endearing.

“You sure you need those on?” Bruce pointed to his glasses.

“Huh? Oh I uh... want to see you.” Clark looked down to study Bruce’s scars again, avoiding eye contact.

Bruce grinned like a shark as he shucked off his own pants and briefs. Clark made way for him to lie down just in time for Bruce to flop down onto his back. Clark hesitated for a moment.

“Saddle up, cowboy.”

“Shut up!” Clark flushed, but proceeded to climb on top of Bruce.

Clark’s dick landed on Bruce’s chest and Bruce nearly salivated. He wouldn’t have minded that dick in his ass at all.

Bruce slicked his fingers and Clark wasted no time at all in riding them.

“Another.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow but complied, sliding a third slick finger in. Clark groaned and Bruce’s dick twitched.

“I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” It was pretty fast.

“Bruce.” Clark stroked Bruce’s dick.

“Alright.”

Bruce slid on the condom and slicked himself up.

Clark sank down on him and he was so tight Bruce worried he had jumped the gun on prep. However, Clark’s face showed no evidence of pain and as soon as Bruce was fully inside of him he began to fuck himself on it. Bruce moaned at the quick intensity of it. Clark looked gorgeous moving over him. Clark bent down to him and kissed him through panted breaths. Bruce tugged at his hair. The two turned into a single mass, biting and tugging at eachother, Clark never relenting. Bruce wrapped his arms around him and shoved back into him, following his pace. Clark moaned heavy into his ear.

Clark came first, dick caught between them. Bruce followed soon after, nails digging into his back. Clark took a moment before pulling off of him, flopping down onto the bed beside him. They both stared at the ceiling, catching their breath. The room felt degrees cooler. A stillness began to settle and wedge itself in Bruce’s throat. He swallowed around it.

Bruce sat up to get rid of the condom and clean himself up. A towel was tossed in Clark's direction.

Another moment and Clark was fidgeting with the sheets.

“That was… good.”

Bruce grunted and Clark cleared his throat.

“Should I...”

“It’s getting late.

“Right.”

The disappointment in his voice made Bruce curse himself.

“...And this bed is pretty big for just me.” Bruce shuffled the sheets down to get underneath them. “You can stay. If you want.”

Bruce laid back and closed his eyes. Everything was still for a moment before he felt Clark shifting on the bed and tugging at the covers. Bruce leaned over to turn the bedside light off.

They settled down for the night. Gotham’s dull light peeking in from the window. A siren went off a couple hundred feet below them and trailed off.

_I’ll just wait until he’s asleep and get out of here. I need to patrol._

The bed moved beside him, Clark shifting to get comfortable. Inching closer to him. He was like a furnace and it made Bruce’s eyes heavy.

He would just take a moment to appreciate it.

\---

Bruce woke up slowly.

He was warm and weighed down by the weight on his side and twined between his legs. His own hand… was across Clark’s side.

_Clark. Shit, what time is it?_

Bruce opened his eyes to see Clark’s sleeping face just a few inches away from his own. There was daylight filtering in through the curtains. The room cast in a warm glow, flecking off Clark’s hair.

Clark was still wearing his glasses. They were at an awkward angle, fighting against his head and the pillow.

_Cute._

Bruce sighed. He eyed the old watch on Clark’s wrist, imagined taking it off to find they were meant to be. Or some other kind of romantic bullshit. Things were that easy for some people, but not for Bruce. Clark would make a great soulmate for someone else.

Bruce took several minutes to untangle himself from Clark without waking him. It required every ounce of his willpower to leave him there. No goodbyes. No number to call. It was easier that way. It was the only way Bruce knew to do it.

At the next event, the Daily Planet had a different representative.

* * *

 

_This is bad._

“Uh, Batman?” Had Flash always been sitting next to him? “You ok there?”

“ _What?_ ”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Flash’s smile was uneasy.

Bruce grunted and looked down at his coffee.

“More tired than I thought.” Bruce grabbed his notes and left without another word, trying to retain a calm demeanor.

_Clark fucking Kent._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


	5. This Changes Nothing

Bruce skipped the next Justice League meeting. And the next. He called in both times with a quick excuse about the Joker being up to something. Luckily by the third week of avoidance he actually was. Bruce found Joker and some henchmen when on patrol staked out in an old factory building. It had been pouring outside and the kevlar in his suit was soaked.

Bruce welcomed the distraction from thinking about Clark. Joker’s antics reminded him of a simpler time. Where the world was smaller, Gotham was all Bruce had to care for, and he wasn’t aware he had had sex with one of the most powerful beings on the planet. Shit, he was thinking about it again.

“You seem distracted, Batsy.”

Batman was taking longer than usual to get through the armed henchmen. He wasn’t having any trouble of course, just taking his sweet time. It was putting Joker on edge. He should be getting punched in the face by now.

“Are those super friends of yours on your mind?”

Bruce grunted as he knocked out the last clown painted head.

“You have your SUPERman and WONDER Woman now and I’m just… THE Joker.” He sighed dramatically, bent backward, eyes watering with crocodile tears. Bruce could almost hear the violin playing. “How’s a poor clown supposed to compete?”

“Simple.” Bruce stalked towards him. “You don’t.”

“Yeesh, harsh.” Joker leaned on the controls in front of him.

The ground gave way under Bruce. He caught the edge of the floor just in time.

“See, Bats? If you were focused on ME you wouldn’t be having this problem.”

Joker sauntered over to the edge of the trap door and took pleasure in watching Batman haul himself up for a moment.

“Let me give you a hand, sport.”

Joker knelt down and before Bruce could stop him he felt volts of electricity surge from where Joker grabbed his arm. The shock buzzer trick usually didn’t work, but Bruce was still soaked from the rain. Joker cackled and dragged him the rest of the way out of the hole, continuing to shock him as he did.

On solid ground again, Bruce grabbed Joker’s forearm hard enough he could feel his bones shift. He twisted it until Joker fell down. Bruce breathed through the pain. He got on Joker and started trying to beat the smile off his face.

“Yeah that’s right,” Bruce knocked him square in the nose and his head hit back against the floor, “lay it on me!”

Bruce growled. Joker wrapped a hand in Batman’s cape and wound up for a punch. Bruce stopped his fist halfway there.

“Who else can give you your sick kicks, Batman?” Blood ran down Joker’s face, melting into his smile. He pulled Batman’s shoulders down suddenly and brought him closer. “Does Superman like it rough like me?” He rasped near his ear.

“ _Shut up._ ” Batman growled and forced him back down to the ground by his neck.

“Oh, did I finally hit a nerve?” He wheezed a laugh and licked the blood off his teeth. “Careful, Bats, _your wrist is showing._ ”

_That’s enough._

This whole interaction was the exact opposite of what Bruce was hoping for. He finally knocked him out with a solid hit to the temple.

Bruce radioed Gordon for pickup and stayed close by on a rooftop to make sure the police had Joker and the others handled. Batman would usually escort Joker back to the asylum himself, but he just wasn't in the mood tonight. It took three police officers to wrangle the now conscious, but restrained, Joker out to the cruiser.

“I’LL BE SEEING YOUR TIGHT ASS AGAIN SOON ENOUGH, BATS!” He shouted into the night.

The police officer shoved his head down into the back of the cruiser. Bruce could still hear him laughing as they sped down the road.

Bruce remembered the first time he encountered the Joker. At first it was kicking and screaming, but it soon delved into laughing. The laughing never stopped.

Joker’s soulmark was warped and bleached, infected by the same acid that made him who he was. There would be no way to tell what it was supposed to have looked like before. Joker liked to tease him saying “Anybody could be my match. Even you, Batsy.” Bruce could at least rest easy knowing the Joker having one in the first place was proof they didn’t.

Bruce took a centering breath and looked out over the city. Metropolis’s bright lights could almost cut through the rain and the fog. With Joker in Arkham his excuses to avoid the meetings became thinner. And they were pretty thin to begin with.

* * *

 

Bruce barely made it to the next meeting, arriving several minutes late. He made sure to walk in when Wonder Woman was in the middle of detailing a fight she had with Circe. Everyone gave him a look, but the scowl on his face was enough to not question him. Clark beamed at him from across the table. Bruce became very interested in what Wonder Woman was saying. However, if you asked him later what she was talking about, he would have no idea.

Bruce almost flinched when Clark’s hand clapped onto his shoulder after the meeting.

“It’s good to see you again, meetings weren’t the same without you.”

“Yeah, they were less condescending.” Flash grinned at Hal.

“Excuse me.” Bruce shrugged off Clark’s hand and walked out of the room.

As he left he could hear Hal whistle and Flash laugh.

Bruce was so close to getting to the Batjet. It was outside on the helipad and he just needed to get through one more door and he would be free from this purgatory for another two weeks.

“Batman, wait,” Bruce stilled and turned around ever so reluctantly. “How did the uh, Joker thing go?”

“Fine.” Batman crossed his arms.

”What’s the problem then?”

“Problem?”

“You barely talked today, less than usual. If it’s something I said or anything the guys said… I just want to make sure you’re alright.” Bruce gave him nothing. “For the team’s sake.”

Bruce let out a deep breath.

_Might as well get this over with._

“You’re Clark Kent.”

Clark’s jaw fell open.

“...Have you been spying on me? Tracking me? What’s wrong with… ok I know I wrote some.. Critiques on you in the past, but that was-what? Ten years ago? I changed my mind, you know that right? I wrote just last Sunday-”

“Clark, I don’t care about bad press.”

Bruce tapped his fingers on his crossed arm and Clark waited for an explanation. Bruce took a look down the hallway to make sure they were alone. With a practiced hand he unlocked his cowl and Clark nearly shrunk back. Bruce took off his mask and awaited his judgement.

Clark blinked.

“You’re...Bruce Wayne. _You’re_ Bruce Wa- OH oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Ohhhh,” Clark put his hand over his mouth before he could say anything he would regret.

”So you can see why I’ve been… behaving differently.”

“Yeah.” Clark’s voice was higher than usual. “Understandable.”

“Right.” Bruce shifted uncomfortably. “We can be _adults_ about this.” Bruce may as well have been wearing the mask still. Clark couldn’t read him at all. “This changes nothing.”

“Of course!”

* * *

 

But, oh God, for Clark it changed _everything._

Clark tried to be professional, really tried, for Bruce’s sake. He was attracted to him before, maybe thought about him naked once or twice, but now he didn’t even have to imagine that hard. He could remember his scars (how many more were there now?) and how he moved with him. _In him._

_Oh, RAO. Nonono don’t think about that!_

Clark was trying to finish a write up for the Daily Planet. He sat at his desk, leg bouncing, trying desperately not to break his pen in half.

“I’m tired of the fluff celebrity pieces!” Lois’s harsh whisper to her friend broke Clark out of it.

She was standing by her desk, arms crossed.

“Oh it won’t be that bad. At least you get to go to a free swanky party.”

Clark was out of his chair and over to Lois as fast as humanly possible.

“Couldn’t help but overhear, Lois. Who does he want you to write on?”

She sighed.

“Bruce Wayne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support you guys have been leaving for this fic!! I'm hoping to get a chapter done each week from now on. (So for you guys refreshing the page, check on Thursdays) <3


	6. You Think I'm Handsome?

Clark had been thinking about what to say for hours now. He had thought about it through the rest of the work day, the way back to his apartment, getting into the second nicest suit he owned (the first was spandex and hardly appropriate for this occasion), and the cab ride over to Gotham. He still had no idea what to say. Whatever he did, he at least figured it would be easier to say with Bruce not in vigilante mode. Clark was still reeling trying to compare Bruce Wayne’s personality with Batman’s. Clark had always assumed Batman was a recluse in his day to day life. Not the most famous and charismatic billionaire in Gotham city.

_Guess I have to add acting to Bruce’s arsenal._

The gala was extravagant, crawling with billionaires and their security. It took Clark almost ten minutes to get through the media check-in. Several people in front of him were shooed away, but Lois was able to get his name on the list in time. He had had to trade her a piece he was looking into about Arkham Asylum’s efficiency. He had felt he was too close to that subject to report on it without a bias anyway. With Bruce knowing his identity it would be difficult to write any super-villain or hero related pieces without feeling self-conscious.

It was another few minutes before Clark spotted Bruce through the thick crowd. Bruce Wayne was about a hundred feet away shmoozing with some guests. His taste looked as refined as ever. If his figure didn’t command your respect, the cut of his suit certainly would. Clark knew his father’s hand-me-down suit couldn’t compare, but he _was_ let in to the event. He couldn’t look that bad. Bruce laughed, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Clark saw his gaze wander and the next thing he knew, Bruce’s eyes were locked with his.

Clark nearly jumped. He still had no idea what to say.

Someone walked in between the staredown. Clark moved to catch sight of Bruce again, but he was no longer with the same group. He started to walk to the other side of the gala, scanning the crowd for Bruce. He didn’t have to look far when Bruce suddenly stepped in front of his path like a lion cornering its prey.

“Clark! What a _surprise_.”

Bruce smiled, but his eyes were studying him. It was beginning to be easier to see how Batman and Bruce were one in the same.

“Bruce! I had no idea you’d be here!”

“My name is on the banner.” Bruce motioned with his glass to the fifty foot long banner behind him. “You haven’t been to a Wayne event since the first time we met.”

“You noticed?” Bruce shrugged and took a sip of his drink. Clark could smell from here it wasn’t alcoholic. Why didn’t he realize that last time? “Do you make it a habit to keep track of everyone who interviews you?”

“Only the ones who _leave an impression._ ” Bruce smirked as Clark squirmed. “Why are you here, Clark?”

“It was sort of an… impulse decision.”

“You mean you aren’t on assignment?”

_Shit._

“I am.”

Bruce smiled wider, having caught him.

“You don’t see enough of me at work?”

 _That’s exactly the problem. I don’t see_ enough _of you._

“...Something like that.”

“Hm.”

Clark felt like he was being autopsied under the intensity of Bruce’s gaze. This was a bad idea. Clark was just one in a series of many for Bruce. Why wasn’t that obvious when he weaseled his way into this hours ago? He almost didn’t notice the wine splashing down his front and the surprised squeal of the waitress.

“Oh! Mr. Wayne, I am _so_ sorry!”

“Completely my fault.” Clark had much more wine on him than Bruce. The embarrassed waitress had a spec of red on her blouse. Bruce pulled a couple hundreds out of his pocket. “Dry-cleaning’s on me.”

It was obvious now that Bruce had toppled the tray on purpose.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Clark. I’ve got spare shirts down the hall.” Bruce led him swiftly out of the room with a commanding hand on his back, leaving the harried waitress behind.

They entered someone’s office, Clark closing the door behind him.

Bruce was all business it seemed, leaning against the desk with his arms crossed.

“ _What are you doing here_?”

Clark steadied himself.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about how… you know.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him.

“I thought we agreed to put that behind us.”

“We did. I... tried to.” The wine on his shirt was making it stick to his skin uncomfortably. He picked at it. “Was this necessary?”

“Was _this_ necessary?”

“Bruce.”

“What’s your point?”

“Did you like... _being_ with me?”

“It was eight years ago.”

“ _Did you like it?_ ”

Clark could hear Bruce swallow.

“I’m not your soulmate, Clark.”

“I’m not asking to be.”

Clark could swear he could hear Bruce thinking. It felt like the walls were closing in.

“Well then _what do you want_?”

Clark stepped over to Bruce and grabbed his face, pulling him into a searing kiss. Bruce clawed at his shirt and growled into his mouth. Clark could feel a hint of stubble under his hand, ghosting over Bruce’s hard jaw.

Bruce grabbed his hair, tugging him away so their eyes met.

“If this ruins our team dynamic I’m going to have to remind you this was your idea.”

Clark huffed and Bruce pulled him back in. Bruce slid back onto the desk, not caring for what might be on it. He kept going till he sat down and Clark fit between his spread legs.

Bruce sucked and bit at Clark as hard as he wanted. Despite Clark’s position above him, he controlled the kiss, angling Clark’s head with unrestrained tugs on his hair. Bruce was definitely more intense than last time. Less coy. Bruce pushed Clark’s pelvis forward to meet his with a foot wrapped around his back. The growing pressure between them made Clark gasp. He reached for Bruce’s belt.

“I have a speech to make.” Bruce leaned back.

He looked properly debauched, hair messed up, wine spilled down his front, blown pupils under his half-lidded eyes. Clark swallowed.

“Right.”

“But after that…”

Clark felt something slide into his back pocket.

“Is this hotel key thing just your go-to move?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Bruce untangled himself from Clark and slid off the desk.

Clark readjusted his glasses and hair. He turned around and Bruce held out a clean pressed shirt for him.

“Where did you-”

Bruce motioned to a drawer with the arm holding his own new shirt.

“I like to be prepared if you haven’t noticed.”

“Why is _this_ something you’re prepared for?”

Bruce winked at him and left.

_Whose office is this anyway?_

* * *

As much as Clark wished he was, he wasn’t a stranger to these one night trysts. Clark was unmatched and he would always be. Some people decided to be abstinent until they found The One, but there were more who were willing to sleep around before then. Sleeping around had its benefits, but it wasn’t what Clark really wanted. What Clark wanted was considered, well, _alien._

Every relationship Clark had tried to keep together was not taken seriously by his potential partner. They were too young and their soulmate could be around any corner. So why waste their time with him for longer than a night? Why settle?

So _Clark_ had to settle. For fleeting moments of connection and transparent tenderness.

It was for all of this that Clark found himself standing outside Bruce’s hotel room. Again. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe this _would_ ‘ruin their team dynamic’ or however Bruce put it. Or maybe it was worth it. Getting a second night with Bruce already made this the longest relationship Clark had had in years.

Clark fiddled with the room key, tapping against the plastic. This was feeling _very_ deja vu. There was one way he knew of to break the feeling, however. Clark used the room key after a polite knock on the door.

The room was dimly lit by the light on the side of the bed. Bruce was looking out the floor to ceiling window, hunched over in a chair. Clark clicked the door closed and Bruce turned his attention to him.

“Are you sure about this, Clark?”

Clark walked farther into the room. Bruce looked tired, but in no way defeated.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Bruce looked Clark up and down measuredly. He got up and closed the distance.

“I want to.”

“Ok.”

Bruce slipped Clark’s glasses off and tossed them to the chair.

“ _Stupid_.” Bruce mumbled.

“Fooled _you_.”

“That’ll be the last time that happens.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm.”

Bruce tugged Clark forward by his collar and they were kissing. Bruce tasted like coffee and smelled like expensive cologne. Bruce started to unbutton Clark’s shirt and quickly lost patience. He ripped the rest of it open. Buttons bounced across the floor. Clark raised his eyebrows.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” Bruce spoke low against his lips.

“You in a rush?”

Bruce growled and bit at Clark’s neck.

Clark used his superspeed to get the rest of their clothes off and tossed Bruce onto the bed. The next thing Bruce knew he was naked, save for the bracelet on his wrist, with Clark straddling him. Bruce barked out a single laugh. Clark had never heard him laugh so hard. It made Clark’s stomach flip. He looked down at Bruce’s chest and his eyebrow furrowed.

“Bruce, does that kevlar even do anything?”

Clark ran his hands along Bruce’s scars. There were at least two dozen more than he remembered, all different sizes. Some light and fading, others raised and folded over.

“How did you explain all of _this_ last time?”

“‘I’m just clumsy.’”

“Right.” Clark pressed his thumb against a scar from a bullet wound near his stomach. “Bruce Wayne: just a clumsy handsome playboy.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

Clark rolled his eyes and Bruce just smiled. Bruce’s smile was lazy, making his eyes sparkle. His ruffled hair fell over his forehead. He was squeezing Clark’s arm, apparently finding it novel he could go as hard as he wanted without Clark batting an eye.

Clark couldn’t help but wonder how much of this was an act. Despite his ease there was a tension about Bruce that never seemed to let up. Was the real Bruce more Bruce Wayne or more Batman? Or was he someone else in between? Someone else entirely? In any case, Clark knew he was in trouble. If this night was all he had with Bruce it wasn’t going to be enough. He wanted more. More than Bruce would likely afford him.

Clark preferred the ragged scars he ran his tongue against to the stark black band on Bruce’s wrist. One was evidence of Bruce’s selflessness and dedication, and the other was proof Clark wouldn’t be the subject of it for long.

Distracted, Clark found himself flipped onto his back. Bruce reached over him to get to the bedside drawer, but hesitated.

“Do you even…”

“It’s more for you than for me”

“Huh.”

Bruce forgot about the condom, but brought out the lube anyway.

Clark shifted up the bed and spread his legs. He didn’t know to prepare himself for the most agonizing tease of his life. Bruce prepared him slow and methodical, sliding and scissoring two slicked fingers relentlessly against his prostate for what felt like hours.

“Bruce-” Clark gasped as Bruce prodded his prostate again. “I told you it’s _fine_.”

“I know. It’s more for me than for you.”

Clark would punch the smug look off Bruce’s face if he wasn’t busy losing his mind.

“ _Jerk._ ”

Bruce ducked down and took Clark’s dick down his throat.

“ _Holy shit._ ”

He swallowed around the head and Clark shuddered against him. Bruce pulled off him slow as can be, dragging his tongue along his shaft.

“ _Bruce,_ this is _torture.”_

“Are you _suffering_ , Clark?”

“Yes,” Bruce dragged against his prostate again and Clark’s breath hitched. “You’re a monster.”

Bruce huffed out a laugh before finally drawing his fingers out. Clark nearly whined at the absense.

“Let me put you out of your misery then.”

It took only a few seconds for Bruce to slick up his dick, sling Clark’s legs over his shoulders, and start jackhammering into Clark. Clark yelled out and barely restrained himself from ripping the sheets in his iron grip. Bruce held nothing back, fingers digging into Clark’s hips.

“That better, Clark?”

“Yeah,” Clark moaned, “ _yes._ ”

After all the teasing it didn’t take much longer for Clark to entirely lose himself, rocking his hips up to meet Bruce just as quickly. Bruce was reduced to grunts, giving Clark everything he had.

Clark came hard on a yell as soon as Bruce touched his dick. Bruce stroked him through it, not relenting on his own pace. He came soon after, breath falling heavy on Clark’s neck.

They cleaned up and fell down against each other. Clark traced what looked like a scar from a knife close to Bruce’s heart. Too close. Clark listened to Bruce’s heart rate and breathing even.

“You actually have an article to write, yes?” Bruce’s voice nearly dipped into Batman’s range.

Clark mumbled an affirmation, nodding into the pillow. He was so sated he didn’t want to think about work.

“Notepad.” Bruce just held out his open hand.

Clark huffed and wrestled himself out of bed. He padded over to his thrown pants and fished out the pad and pen he kept with him. Bruce had his eyes closed, hand still held open. Clark handed it over and crawled back into bed, getting the covers around them.

Bruce scribbled away at the notepad. Clark rested his head on Bruce’s shoulder to watch him write. There was some surface level info on the charity the gala was supporting, some statistics and impressive figures and name-dropping. Clark’s eyes were heavy and Bruce smelled like cologne and sex. He fell asleep to the sound of pen scratching on paper.

Clark woke up to the sun hitting his face. He turned over to his back and stretched out with a yawn. There was no heartbeat next to him. Bruce was gone.

_Don’t take it personally. It’s what you expected._

Clark’s chest still deflated and ached. This was just like last time.

Clark got up and put on his clothes, lastly adjusting his glasses. He sighed and noticed his notepad and pen left on the table. He flipped through the notes Bruce left him. It was thorough, more than enough for the article. The last page, however, wasn’t about the gala.

‘Had a meeting.’

A phone number was written below it. Maybe this wasn’t like last time after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying the ride so far!


	7. How We Match

It had been a busy week since the night at the gala. Bruce hadn’t heard from Clark yet. He still didn’t know what to make of what happened. What they were to each other now. Bruce thought another night with Clark would soothe the itch he got the moment he realized Superman’s identity. But it was still there at the back of his mind. Ok, maybe it was more towards the front of his mind. They hadn’t talked about it. Bruce had always been bad with talking.

Bruce stared out the parlor window. It was another rainy day in Gotham. The wind whipped the trees on the edge of the grounds. Alfred walked into the room and joined Bruce, hands behind his back.

“Master Dick will be coming home soon.”

Dick had decided to live on campus despite the short commute. It was almost summer now.

“How soon?”

“Two weeks. I wagered I should give you time to prepare. We _are_ eating dinner together the night he arrives.”

_That’s a threat._

Bruce grunted in acceptance. It would be nice to have a family dinner for once. He was also looking forward to having Dick back in the house. He was someone else to patrol and train with. Dick would also have easier access to backup. Bruce trained him well, but there was always risk of injury. Bruce worried his avoidance to ask for help would rub off on him. It probably did.

The phone rang and Alfred answered it.

“Wayne residence.”

Alfred listened for a moment.

“Just a moment.” He covered the receiver with a gloved hand. “It’s a... Clark Kent, sir?”

Bruce froze. Alfred raised an eyebrow at him. He was about to answer when a white sparkling light cut through the dark clouds over Gotham and plummeted down to the city. Its wake left a hole for afternoon light to stream down.

_Oh thank god._

Bruce was already out of the room, but he could still hear Alfred for a moment.

“Terribly sorry, Mr. Kent. Master Bruce is busy at the moment. May I take a message?”

* * *

 

Bruce dropped into the downtown shopping district of Gotham. It was easy to find the unidentified glowing object with the hole in the clouds literally shining light on the scene. The door to the boutique was torn clear off and lodged into the sign above the cafe across the street.

_Looks like someone is unhinged._

Most people had already cleared the area. Some were standing by timidly with their phones out. There wasn’t anyone injured or screaming from the looks of it. So far so good. Bruce approached the doorway cautiously.

Inside the small boutique a woman with wild red hair was looking at herself in the floor to ceiling mirrors. Bruce had never seen her before, but she was obviously powerful and there was no way to tell the extent yet. He hung back to assess the situation.

She had a rack of clothes pulled up next to her. There was a glowing bubble filled with several frozen shoppers, some still holding the clothes they were looking at. A young worker was standing at the counter watching the ordeal with mild disinterest. She must be a Gotham native.

“How about this one?” The woman pulled a shimmering green top off the cart and held it in front of herself. In a flash, the top she was wearing transformed into the green one. It plunged in a ‘v’ down her front and back. “Too revealing?”

“Try it with the black pants.”

“These?” Her short skirt transformed into long tight leather pants. “Oh yes this will do nicely. You have a talent, young lady.”

The worker shrugged. Her eyes only opened slightly wider when she noticed Batman walking into the store.

_Is this supposed to be a robbery?_

Bruce cleared his throat to get the woman’s attention.

She turned around confidently. She was nearly seven feet tall, another five inches with the heels. She studied him for a moment, not at all disguising the full-body examination. Apparently he wasn’t to her tastes as she turned her nose up at him.

“What are you supposed to be?”

_I’m going to ignore that._

“I could ask you the same thing. You’re from off-planet?”

“Yes. I should think that is obvious.” She motioned with her hand and the bubble moved up with it.

“You should know we don’t take kindly to taking hostages... or property damage.”

“Well I will not be here long if all goes accordingly.”

She ignored Batman and went back to looking at her reflection.

“Could you let those people go?”

“Oh, I need them for a bit. Do not worry about it.”

“What for?”

She looked to be on her last nerve for a moment.

“Actually, you may be able to help me.” Bruce braced himself to dodge if need be. “Could you tell me where Superman is?”

“Not exactly.”

“Approximately, then?”

“The next town over.”

“The one across the water?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.”

All at once Bruce was enveloped in a bright light. His stomach felt like he was falling, but he could still feel the floor under him. The next thing he knew, he, the alien woman, and the bubble of hostages were in a gymnasium. Some children around them screamed and a basketball bounced off the glowing bubble. Some signs on the wall confirmed they were now somewhere in Metropolis. The children were gawking at the scene in front of them.

“ _Superman?_ ” The woman shouted and waited a moment. “He comes when there is danger yes?”

_Don’t like the sound of that._

She flicked her wrist and the doors to the gymnasium slammed closed.

_Telekinesis? What else can she do?_

The floor started to rumble and the kids were scrambling into groups. Bruce took out a batarang.

“Hey, _let them go!_ ”

The look she cast on Batman was framed by fire, her hair whipping around.

“I take orders from no one!”

Her eyes flashed white-

* * *

 

When Clark arrived at the Metropolis Youth Center he didn’t know what to think. It wasn’t exactly the prime location for a heist. A summer camp had been interrupted by what looked like five armored mechs. They stood like sentinels guarding the entrance and blocking the teenage counselors from getting back in. Luckily, their presence was enough to keep them away. They hadn’t fired their weapons at all. That is, until Superman came into view.

Clark dodged the energy blasts from their arm cannons easily. The blazing bright energy flew past him and impacted into the opposite building. It was a LexCorp property so Clark wasn’t as careful as he might be with holding back on the property damage.

_Now who’s behind this?_

Clark used his x-ray vision on the mechs and his heart leapt into his throat. They were kids. All of them still in their gym shorts and small hands robotically piloting the suits. Clark almost didn't dodge the next blast. It sped past his arm and it left an odd tingling sensation behind. These blasts could actually be able to hurt him. He sped over to the first mech and tore the top off of the suit. As soon as the thick metal left his hand it vanished. The child inside the mech blinked up at him as if waking up from a deep sleep.

“It’s ok, I’m here.” Clark reached in and lifted her up under her arms. He flew her as quick as was safe to a camp counselor nearby.

He took out the other mechs like the first. As soon as its pilot was removed, the mech would flicker out of existence. They didn’t leave a trace aside from the damage they left behind. The children he took out of them seemed to be back to normal now, just shaken up and excited by his presence.

Superman burst through the double doors to the gymnasium. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t Bruce in full Batman mode seemingly frozen in place. He was in the middle of throwing a batarang, scowl plastered on his face. There were children in the room in the same situation, frozen in states of awe or fear. Some kind of glowing sphere hung suspended by a basketball hoop.

“Superman!” A firey woman in the center of the statues spread her arms wide. “I knew you would not be able to resist my call of the siren!” She started to saunter over to him, heels clomping against the gymnasium floor.

“Who are you?”

“Darling, I am Maxima, ruler of Almerac, settler of the nine worlds,” Her eyes flared. “And your _destiny._ ”

“Excuse me?”

“I have been watching you from afar, Superman. You are really quite,” Her gaze encompassed him, “ _impressive._ ”

Clark didn’t know what to say to that. She continued to get closer.

“I have traveled here to this Earth because I simply had to meet you. I am sure you are charmed as well.” She held her hand out to him. Her nails were perfectly cut talons.

Clark crossed his arms.

“Is this not the proper way to greet you?” She looked uncertainly down at her hand, but didn’t waver.

“No. Harming children is not the way to _greet_ anyone.”

She threw her head back in a laugh, finally dropping her hand.

“You are funny, too. They were just told to sit still, that is all. I do not intend to harm them. Having them here was just the fastest way to find you.”

“What do you want?”

“I have an offer. Like I said before, it is destiny that our paths entwine. Superman, together, you and I will be the greatest rulers in the history of Almerac. Our reach will go beyond the nine planets to span hundreds. You see, we will be perfect as king and queen of Almerac.” She went to place her hand on his arm and he floated slightly out of the way. Her demeanor shifted immediately. “Would you not listen to reason?”

“Release them. All of them. Then we’ll talk.”

She moved to place a hand on him again and again he moved. Clark raised an eyebrow at her, looking at the frozen children and Batman. Her eyes narrowed.

“You do not understand.” She brightened with a smile. “I will show you how we _match._ ”

Before Clark could blink, her fist made contact with his chin and he crashed through the ceiling.

_Woah._

Clark started to right himself in the air to get his bearings. She was next to him and she knocked the wind out of his lungs with her next hit.

_Ow. Okay._

Another quick blow and Clark made another Superman shaped hole in the roof on his way down to the new crater in the gymnasium floor. She was good.

_Alright._

“Are you not the Superman I was looking for after all?”

She floated down to him, arms crossed. Clark picked himself back to his feet. She sped over to him, but this time Clark was ready. He grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her back. She smirked and came back at him. They traded blows until she was knocked into the wall in a daze. With her distracted for the moment, Clark turned his attention to Bruce.

Clark zipped over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Batman?”

Bruce’s eyes slowly came into focus and he wavered out of his tight pose. Clark made sure he didn’t fall over with his steady hand. Bruce groaned.

“Are you alright?”

Bruce blinked and seemed to finally really see him. His balance wavered again and he caught himself with a hand on Clark’s chest.

“Superman? What’s-”

Bruce was tossed across the room. Maxima’s hands were on Clark’s temples. He couldn’t move. A glimmering sphere surrounded them all at once. Clark couldn’t see or hear anything happening in the gymnasium. There was only Maxima and the tight bright space around them.

‘I tried to give you choice, but now you _will_ listen to me.’ The words did not come from her unmoving mouth. They reverberated in Clark’s head, pushing out room for his own thoughts. Images of what she spoke filtered into his mind.

‘I can give you what anyone on this world cannot. Children. A legacy. The Kryptonian race does not have to die with you. Imagine: yours and my powers combined. Our children will be unstoppable. _We_ will be unstoppable.’

“I’m not _interested,”_ Clark’s words echoed oddly, “in tarnishing Krypton’s legacy by becoming a _warlord_.”

‘ _Tarnishing?_ ’ The word screamed in Clark’s head and made him ache.

The bubble around them burst and threw Batman back with it. Clark was still frozen, but was now able to struggle against it. Maxima kept her hold on his head as she lifted them up into the air.

“Our _perfect compatibility_ was determined by the _greatest genetic scientists on my planet._ ”

_Sounds like eugenics._

“ _Why else_ should I fly across the galaxy to find _you?_ You will _never_ get a better offer!”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Clark managed to break whatever spell of will she had placed on him and grabbed her wrists. She kicked at him, high heels snapping against his chest. He spun her around and threw her down to the ground. She landed hard into the same crater she had formed with his body minutes earlier. She scrambled up and grabbed the nearest frozen kid to her. Batman stood cautiously nearby. Clark floated closer, but kept his distance.

“This _rock_ and the insects that crawl on it are not worth our time.” Maxima unfroze the child and he struggled in her grasp.

“Maxima. Let him go.”

The hand she held close to the child’s face flickered with a white energy.

“The weak will die. It is what they do.”

“Let. Him. _Go._ ”

“You can not save _everyone,_ Superman.”

“I know, but you have to try.”

Maxima’s jaw dropped and she whipped around to Batman. Her eyes narrowed and her glance flicked between the cowled face and Superman. She dropped the boy and he ran behind where Superman hovered.

“I see. You have settled. Disgusting.” She shifted out of her defensive stance. “I hope you two are happy, Superman. The Kryptonian race will die with you. Know that I gave you the option to save them.”

Her form flickered out of existence, the same way the mechs had earlier. The children around them all at once started to wake up.

Clark landed next to Bruce.

_She was a telepath. What were you thinking that got her so bothered, Bruce?_

Bruce noticed him staring.

“What?”

Clark remembered the reason he had called Bruce earlier.

“You hungry?”

Bruce looked around at the children and the adults from the store. They were all unharmed and starting to whisper amongst each other. Their job was done here.

Bruce grunted to Clark in agreement.

“Want a lift?” Clark held out his arm. He didn't have to see under the cowl to know Bruce was rolling his eyes. Bruce locked their arms together and Clark flew them out one of the holes in the ceiling. The sky was turning gold, the sun setting behind the bridge. Clark felt Bruce’s hand tighten on his arm.

_What were you thinking about, Bruce?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being longer than I thought it was going to so I split it up into two! (not that you would notice a difference, but that means more chapters overall)
> 
> Thank you so much for all the sweet feedback! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it so far.
> 
> Check back on Aug.23 for the next chapter ;)


	8. This Is Cozy

Bruce directed Clark to a little diner on Gotham’s city limits. Its red neon sign bounced off the brick of the nearby apartment buildings. It was a quiet part of town and twilight was setting in.

“Not the front door. The alley.”

Clark snorted and landed them softly by the dumpster.

Bruce handed him a twenty. Clark blinked at him.

“Batman does not make casual public appearances.”

“I guess not.” Clark took the money hesitantly. “What do you-”

“I’m not picky.”

Bruce grappled up to the roof of the diner. The street lights cast a warm glow in the misty air. For once, Bruce couldn’t hear any sirens. It wasn’t the most scenic location for a dinner, but it was private. The chances of someone bothering them up here against the air conditioning unit were pretty slim. Despite Bruce agreeing to this he was willing to break bones if someone took a picture of Batman and Superman eating together. Or just together, without the rest of the league there, in general.

Bruce sat down and rested his head against the air conditioner. Its hum was almost relaxing. Almost. Some soft music was leaking out of an apartment window. Something old and slow. Bruce’s personal nightmare; getting old and slow. What if Clark never aged? Or at least aged at a different rate than humans… He’d grow out of him. Bruce and his baggage would get to be too much one day. Probably soon. Who was Bruce kidding even entertaining the idea this could last? As if there was even a _this._ It had just been one impulsive night… Technically two. He had no reason to expect there would be a third.

What Maxima had said when she left nagged at Bruce. She must have had some kind of mind reading capabilities, but they couldn’t have been _that_ advanced. She mistook Bruce’s lust for… something completely inaccurate. No, not just inaccurate: _impossible_ . Clark was only “settling” for Bruce because of… convenience and efficiency. They could trust each other in the field and for now… _off_ the field.

Clark hovered over to him holding a bag and two drinks in a tray.

“This is cozy.”

Bruce grunted and held his hand out for the bag. Clark obliged and sat down a couple inches away from him.

Bruce opened the bag and scanned its contents.

“Where’s the silverware?”

“What?”

“Superman, how am I supposed eat this?” Bruce took out a burger gingerly. “With my _hands_?”

Clark looked at him critically for a moment before laughing.

“You _are_ joking, right?”

“I’m capable.”

“Barry and Hal wouldn’t think so.”

_There’s a lot those two don’t know about me._

“Is that a coffee?”

“Yes, black.”

_Perfect._

Bruce took a long sip and nearly moaned. He caught Clark looking at his lips for a moment.

“What’s yours?”

“Oh uh, milkshake. Vanilla.”

Bruce almost rolled his eyes.

_Super metabolism._

They ate their burgers and fries and chatted. The moments of silence they shared were comfortable. It got as dark as the haze of light pollution would allow. They were almost done when Clark paused mid-sentence and cocked his head.

Bruce tensed immediately. If there was trouble he’d be ready.

“I’ll be right back.” Clark smiled almost apologetically.

He flew across the street to where an orange cat was walking on a fire escape. Clark held out a hand for it to smell and it bumped its head against it.

_Of course he’s good with animals._

The cat let Clark scoop him up and Clark flew him to an open window a few stories away. An old woman greeted him and looked like she was trying to invite Superman inside. It took almost a minute for Clark to decline and fly back over.

“Boy scout.” Bruce finished off the rest of his coffee.

“You’d do the same if you saw it.”

“Not really my scene.”

“You’re right.” Clark smirked. “Popping up in her window. You’d give her a heart attack. No, you’d just sneak the cat back in without her ever seeing you.”

Bruce hummed.

“Any more cats need saving right now?”

Clark cocked his head to listen for a moment.

“No.”

* * *

 

Clark let Bruce slam him into the bedroom door. He had been shedding parts of the batsuit all through the mansion and Clark’s hands were on his bare chest. Bruce’s mouth was hot and coffee bitter. Bruce dragged across his tongue. Clark shirked his suit off his shoulders and Bruce pulled it down as he sank to his knees.

_Holy shit, Bruce._

Clark’s dick sprang out of his suit as Bruce continued to pull it down. Bruce took him all at once. Clark’s head was thrown back in a moan. Bruce was wet heat and delicious suction. Before it got to be too much, Bruce popped his mouth off of the head of his dick. The moonlight from the floor to ceiling windows cast beautifully on his face. Clark felt like he could come just from the sight of him.

Bruce helped Clark the rest of the way out of his suit then got to work unfastening the bottom half of his own. Clark would help if he didn’t think he’d just be getting in the way.

“On your back.” Bruce tossed his last boot to the side.

_Yes, sir._

Clark got comfortable on the bed. It wasn’t hard as the mattress was easily the most expensive thing Clark had ever laid on. Bruce grabbed lube out of the drawer and straddled him. He slicked up his fingers… and began easing them into his own hole.

_Oh. Yes._

“Want some… help with that?”

Bruce tossed him the lube.

“You’re the guest.”

Clark slicked up his fingers and prodded gingerly inside. He steadied Bruce with his other hand on his thigh. Bruce’s eyes were closed as he proceeded to fuck himself on Clark’s fingers. Clark considered getting revenge for Bruce’s teasing last time, but frankly, he was too excited by the prospect of Bruce riding him to go through with it.

“That’s enough.” Bruce pulled him out by the wrist.

Clark positioned his slicked dick and Bruce sank down on it slowly. Clark let out a long groan. Bruce bounced down on him in what could have been a practiced rhythm. Bruce was putting on a good show, rolling his hips and grunting. Clark could still tell there was something tense about him. There was always something tense about Bruce. Clark just wanted to smooth out the knot in his brow.

Clark lifted Bruce off of him by the hips and tossed him onto his back. Clark was on top of him in a flash.

“What?” Bruce growled through gritted teeth.

“Relax.”

Before Bruce could reply, Clark was fucking him. Bruce shouted in surprise and spread his legs wider.

“You ok?”

“ _Yes.”_

Clark planted kisses on Bruce’s brow, his cheek, his nose, his mouth. Bruce locked his fingers in Clark’s hair and held him there. Their teeth clicked together through their grunts. Clark leaned back to look at him. Bruce panted with his thrusts, but he was still tightly wound. Clark grabbed Bruce’s legs from behind the knees and slung them over his shoulders. The change in angle had Bruce moaning instantly. He clenched around him and Clark let his want take over.

Clark railed into Bruce. Bruce bit down on his fist and Clark could feel his thighs start to shake. Clark finally saw the tension leave Bruce’s face when he came in a muffled cry. Clark came soon after, looking into the content gaze Bruce leveled on him.

After Bruce cleaned them up with a spare towel he tackled Clark down onto the bed. Clark laughed and Bruce kissed him hard. Bruce rolled them onto their sides and slotted their legs together. Clark pulled the sheets over them. Bruce was staring at him, forehead starting to crease again.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Clark slung an arm around him to tug him closer and Bruce let out a grumbled sigh.

Being here now, Clark didn’t know why he was so worried for the past week. For some reason, Bruce was giving this a chance. Clark didn’t want to question it too much, but he couldn’t help but wonder. Who was Bruce’s soulmate? Even if Clark wanted to invade Bruce’s privacy, the lead lining his bracelet ensured he couldn’t. As for what Maxima had said to them… If anyone was “settling” it was _Bruce._ Not that Clark didn’t think he was _worthy_ or something. He just didn’t _fit_ as a piece of Earth’s puzzle. It was a hard fact for Clark to swallow with Bruce tracing an idle pattern on his hip. He would have to choke it down eventually.

Clark fell asleep to the ever-steady beat of Bruce’s heart.

* * *

 

Bruce laughs, his hand held tight. Safe. His mother smiles down at him. Her heels click familiarly against the damp pavement. Bruce’s spirit is high, excited by the idea of swashbuckling heroics. A mask and a black cape and a desire to help others. His father holds a hand in front of him while a car passes by.

“Be careful, Bruce.”

The night is young. Bruce is younger.

The city Bruce has known his whole life narrows and darkens.

A figure grows out of the shadows and yells. White panic and confusion lock Bruce in place. His father steps between them. Two shots ring out.

The screams die down. Bruce finally moves, sinking to his knees. His mother’s hand shakes as it lands on his cheek.

“It’s ok, Bruce.”

Red seeps across the ground. His knees grow warm.

The sky opens up.

* * *

 

Bruce’s heart beat rarely raised. Even in combat, Bruce managed to keep a practiced even pace. For this reason, Bruce’s erratic heart woke Clark up like an alarm. They had only been asleep for a couple hours when Clark noticed the change.

Bruce was laying on his back, distanced from Clark. His eyes moved rapidly under his eyelids, his fists clenched in the sheets. Clark’s grogginess was quickly dissipating.

_Nightmare?_

“Bruce?” Clark whispered.

When that did nothing he shook Bruce’s shoulder gently.

Bruce’s eyes shot open and Clark was pinned down. Bruce straddled him, one hand pressing down on his neck and the other pulled back to strike. His breath came heavy. He looked like he had no idea why Clark was there.

“Sorry!” Clark put up his hands. “You were having a nightmare.”

Recognition dawned in Bruce’s eyes. He took a deep breath and he was back to his contained self. It was honestly impressive how fast he was able to calm his heart back down. He got off the bed and started looking through the bits of the suits on the floor.

“Bruce?” Clark scooted over to touch him and Bruce moved out of his reach.

He found the black briefs he had been wearing earlier and put them on.

“Where are you going?” Clark sat up.

“Have work in the cave.”

“What?”

“Go back to bed.”

Bruce left without another word. The door slammed closed behind him. Clark fell back on the bed, hands rubbing at his eyes.

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update on Aug.30 ;)


	9. Nothing Is Ever That Simple

Clark flew back home minutes after Bruce left him on the bed. Part of him wanted to stay and hope Bruce would come back. Part of him knew that was never going to happen. Ultimately, Clark decided he would rather leave of his own volition than wait till morning for Bruce to kick him out.

Of course, Clark had his suspicions for what Bruce had dreamt. It was no secret what Bruce was a victim of. It was just that Bruce carried himself so well, Clark had assumed it wasn’t so fresh a wound. He was kicking himself now because of it. Clark spent the rest of that night researching PTSD (a guess, but a measured one). He read through forum after forum of partners dealing with their matches’ nightmares. Clark wanted to help. Needed to be able to help. If it happened again, Clark didn’t want Bruce to be embarrassed. He would just be prepared.

Clark wanted to call Bruce sooner, but a series of run ins with Mister Mxyzptlk held him up for weeks. He even had to miss a JLA meeting over it. He was relieved to finally hear Bruce’s voice when he managed to call him.

“Yes?”

“Bruce! How are you?”

“Fine.” Clark could hear some kind of electric buzzing in the background. “Did you need something?”

“No, just thought it would be nice to catch up.”

“I’m a little busy right now.”

“Oh.”

“Have any plans tonight?”

“I’m working until five.”

“See you after, then.”

The line went silent.

_ Ok. _

Clark didn’t know what to expect when he left work, but knowing Bruce Wayne, a limo was actually on his list. Bruce’s butler stood next to the passenger door. Clark felt very out of his depth. He was wearing a flannel shirt he had owned for years.

_ If this leads to some kind of fancy restaurant, Bruce and I are going to have a talk about surprises. _

“Mr. Kent, I presume?” The butler opened the door to the back seat for Clark.

“Please, call me Clark.” He held out his hand for him.

“Alfred Pennyworth.” He shook Clark’s hand and gave him a small smile. It was a smile that Clark recognized.

Clark suddenly had the feeling he was meeting someone much more important than the butler title would convey.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

The limo was ridiculous and extravagant. Clark had no idea where he was supposed to sit or how. Alfred shut the door for him and appeared a moment later in the driver’s seat. The opening between the sections felt a hundred feet away.

“Would you like the partition up, sir?”

“No, thank you.”

Alfred drove him in silence for a few minutes. It became obvious that the destination must be in Gotham.

“Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?”

“Master Bruce has requested I not spoil the surprise.”

“Can you tell me if I’m dressed for the occasion?”

“Yes, you need not worry about that.”

Clark watched the buildings pass for a moment.

“Mr. Kent?”

“Yes?”

“Be patient with Bruce. He often gets so absorbed in his work he forgets to take care of himself or to mind others.”

“I’ve noticed. I don’t take it personally.”

Alfred nodded. His thumb tapped on the wheel.

“Now mind, I do not say this lightly. You must mean  _ something _ to Bruce.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have not known him to pay this much attention to anyone he has been ‘involved’ with.”

Clark was on the edge of his seat.

“Thank you for telling me.” Clark took a breath. “Alfred, stop me if this is overstepping, but do you know anything about Bruce’s soulmate?”

Alfred’s face in the rearview mirror was schooled.

“I do, but that is something you should ask Bruce himself.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

Clark worried the band of his watch.

“Like I said, Mr. Kent, be patient with him. He’s not one to open up without prodding. His fault is not that he doesn’t care. It’s that he cares too much.”

Clark let that thought sit with him until the limo pulled to a stop. They were in front of an industrial complex. The shops on the side of it were modestly maintained. This was a plaza one could easily drive by without a second glance. Immediately in front of them was a small Italian restaurant.

“Master Bruce is already inside. Have a good night, Mr. Kent.”

“Thanks, Alfred. You too.”

The door made a chime when Clark entered. Despite the odd location, there were several tables occupied in the small dining room. It was easy to find Bruce in the corner. The booth he chose was the best vantage point in the restaurant. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt: the most approachable outfit Clark had ever seen him wear. A leather jacket was slung over the back of the dark purple booth. Bruce looked up from his phone when he noticed Clark.

“Alfred’s nice.” Clark settled slid into the booth.

“Nicer than you know.”

“I’m sure.”  _ He’s like a father to you isn’t he? _ “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been well.  _ You’ve _ been busy.”

“Yes. This time there was some time travel involved. It got messy, I don’t need to bore you with the details.”

Bruce opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when he saw the waiter approaching.

“Bruce! This your friend?”

“Yes. Matteo, this is Clark. He writes for the Daily Planet.”

“Ah! A reporter!” They shook hands. “You give us a good review, eh?”

“I’ll have to try the food before I make that promise.”

“Aha! You got me. Good man. We are the best in Gotham, I guarantee. Only the best for Mr.Wayne.” Matteo looked back to Bruce, swatting his shoulder. “How’s Dick doing, Bruce?”

_ Nightwing? _

“He’s doing well.”

“Straight A’s I’m guessing, eh?”

“Of course.”

“When he gets back you tell him to say ‘hi,’ ok?”

“I will.”

“Ha, alright. You let me know what you need, eh? I’ll give you a minute.”

“Yes, thank you, Matteo.”

Bruce was a father. That had just hit Clark. He knew Nightwing, never met him in person. He knew Bruce Wayne had taken in a child. Now he put it together and it was sinking in.

Matteo left to check on the other guests at the front.

“So... friend of yours?”

“We’ve been coming here for years. It’s one of the best places to not get bothered.”

Clark consulted the menu for a bit. Everything looked good.

“So, Dick is in college?”

“Yes.”

“What’s he studying?”

“Business.”

“Like his old man?”

Bruce smiled.

“It was his idea.”

“Any extracurriculars? Besides ‘the family business.’”

“Actually, he writes for the school paper.”

“Really?”

Matteo came back to get their orders and the rest of the date (this was a date, right?) went off without a hitch. Bruce was comfortable here and conversation flowed easily over great food. Clark needed this. The sex was amazing, sure, but he wanted to be closer than just that.

They had finished their meals. Clark was now working on a tiramisu Matteo had sold him on while Bruce sipped on a coffee. Clark figured now was a good time to potentially make things awkward.

“Bruce, I want you to know you can talk to me. About anything.”

Bruce eyed him skeptically.

“Ok?”

“I’m serious. I trust you and I hope you can trust me too.”

“Mhm...” Bruce tapped on the table, eyes averted. “Was there something you wanted me to talk about?”

“Well… With what we’re doing here… I was wondering if you were _ ‘looking.’” _

Clark could hear Bruce hold his breath and his pulse shoot up.

“It’s ok if you are!” Clark backpedaled. “I understand.”

Bruce took a moment to answer.

“My line of work doesn’t leave me much time to look… and I find my current situation… satisfactory.”

There was something Bruce wasn’t telling him, but the idea that Clark could be enough for him for the moment made his heart soar.

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“I also ‘find my current situation satisfactory.’”

Bruce rolled his eyes, but they were warm. Clark wanted to reach across the table and touch his hand. Rub his thumb across his rough knuckles. But he didn’t. He smiled and finished his dessert.

The check came and Bruce shooed away Clark’s attempts to pay. Bruce walked out ahead of him. Clark admired the figure his leather jacket cut on him.

“So should I get you an uber or are we not done yet tonight?” Bruce held the door open for him.

“Is that your way of inviting me over?”

“Is that your way of saying yes?”

“You’re such an ass.”

Bruce just smiled. They stopped in front of a sleek black motorcycle.

“Are we both going to fit on that?”

Bruce slipped on the thick black helmet left by the bike.

“I could still get you that uber.”

Bruce flipped the reflective visor down and slung a leg over the seat.

“What, I don’t get a helmet?”

Bruce turned his expressionless head to him and revved the engine. Clark shook his head and got on. If anything he was more worried about the weight limit. He fit fine though. He wrapped his arms around Bruce’s chest. Bruce was solid. He took off and they sped through the lit up downtown of Gotham.

The last time Clark had been on a motorcycle was in Smallville. Large stretches of country roads where you could go as fast or slow as you pleased. But this was Gotham, and this was Bruce. It was a completely different experience. Bruce weaved through traffic like he was part of the city. Clark couldn’t tell if the series of green lights they hit were just luck or a knowledge of how the city flowed. However, Clark would guess that Bruce didn’t believe in luck.

The congested city streets turned into quiet wooded roads on the city’s limits. Some forest acted as a buffer between the city and the estate. Wayne Manor was set up on a hill, allowing for a grand view of the city. 

Clark could sense tonight was different the moment he got off the motorcycle. The steps they made were more measured than their previous nights. Clark savored the drag of Bruce’s tongue against his. They stripped piece by piece, not in a rush. Each new patch of exposed skin was treated as a place to explore. To touch. To tease. To kiss.

“Holy  _ shit, _ Clark.”

“Was that- I’m sorry-”

“Do it again.”

Clark adjusted his grip on Bruce’s thighs and lifted him up again with ease. He slammed Bruce back down onto his dick and Bruce rasped out a deep moan. Bruce let him take full control of the pace and intensity. Clark worked him slow, but hard. When Bruce finally came on Clark’s chest it was with a rumbling yell. His thighs shook in Clark’s hands and he steadied himself with hands gripping the sheets on either side of Clark’s head. Clark finished himself off with a few thrusts up, Bruce panting a few inches above him.

When they went to sleep Bruce was curled and tangled around him. Clark wanted this. Every night. But that was selfish. Bruce didn’t belong to him.

* * *

 

Pearls snap off her slim neck. Her head cracks against the pavement. Her eyes go blank. His father won’t get up, no matter how much Bruce shakes him. He calls their names and no one answers. No one answers. No one answers.

* * *

 

Clark woke up with a start. Bruce was shaking. He grunted in his sleep, face taught, and sweat on his brow. Clark watched for a moment, heart aching. He hoped his research was accurate.

_ Please, let me help you. _

Clark eased an arm around him slowly, nudging himself closer.

“I’m here.” Clark whispered and smoothed through his hair. “You’re safe.”

Bruce grunted and turned over towards Clark. Clark held him tighter, continuing to card fingers through his hair.

“It’s ok, Bruce.”

Bruce’s breath hitched and he shuddered, his nose nudged against Clark’s chest.

After a few agonizing minutes, Bruce settled down. Clark took a deep breath.

_ This man is going to be the death of me. _

_ \--- _

The sun hit Clark’s eyes. Bruce was gone. Again. Clark sat up and ran a hand through his hair.

_ Would it kill you to sleep a full eight hours? Just once? _

There was a note on the table: “In the cave. Alfred can make you breakfast if you’d like.”

_ I’m not asking your butler to make me breakfast. _

Clark flipped the paper over: “Actually, it’s not optional. He insists.”

Clark snorted and put on his glasses.

_ Might as well make the most of this. _

* * *

 

Dick yawned as he walked down the hallway. He had just gotten back home a couple of days ago. He was only up this early (before noon) to hopefully get some training in. Bruce was bound to test him soon and he was _ not  _ going to be rusty. When he got to the kitchen doorway he stopped dead in his tracks.

_ Who the fuck is that? _

There was a broad man about Bruce’s age hunched over the kitchen table. His head was propped up with one hand while the other poked at the blueberries on his pancakes with his fork. He wore a rumpled flannel shirt and his hair was unkempt. He, at least, certainly didn’t look like a threat.

“Um, hi?”

The fork clattered against the plate and the man turned to him.

“Oh, hello! You must be Dick?” He got up a bit awkwardly to shake his hand. “I’m Clark, a uh friend of Bruce’s.”

_ Ohhh ok. A ‘friend.’ Right. _

“Bruce doesn’t have many ‘friends’ over.” Dick started a cup of coffee.

“No?”

“No.”  _ He would have to have friends to have them over.  _ “Did Alfie make you those pancakes?”

“Yes, there’s another plate in the fridge if you want to heat that up.” Clark sat back down.

Dick hummed and finished getting his breakfast ready. He could tell this guy wasn’t expecting to see anyone in here. He almost felt bad sitting down across from him, but he needed to know more about this… office worker that Bruce just let roam around the house after, well, fucking him. That much was obvious.

“How do you know Bruce?”

“We… met at a charity event.”

“Were you a donor?” He didn’t look like a millionaire.

“No, I’m a reporter. For the Daily Planet.”

_ Interesting. _

“Did you have to interview him?”

“Yes.”

“That must have been tough.” Dick poured syrup over his pancakes. “Bruce doesn’t exactly open up under questioning.”

“Yeah he can be a real ass about that.”

Dick laughed.

_ This guy isn’t half bad. _

* * *

 

That afternoon, Bruce found Dick training in one of the workout rooms. They agreed to a sparr. Dick had his nightsticks and Bruce had his gauntlets for blocking. Dick seemed distracted and after a few minutes Bruce was tired of wondering why.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Clark seems nice.”

“You’ve met?”

“He was eating breakfast in the kitchen. Alone. You couldn’t spare the time to eat with him?”

Dick tried to swipe Bruce’s legs.

“You were up that early?”

“I’m capable. He looked like a lost puppy.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Bruce went to grab Dick’s shoulder. Dick spun out of the way.

“Speaking of lost puppies, we should get a dog.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You’re going back to school in a few months. The dorms don’t allow pets. You’ll just leave him here and it’ll be my responsibility.”

“Alfred’s responsibility.”

“So you admit it.”

Dick swung at Bruce’s side. The hit bounced off a gauntlet.

“Bruce, come on, wouldn’t you like to come home after patrolling to a nice slobbery kiss? Or is that what you have Clark for?”

“That’s a confusing analogy.”

“Not my best, I’ll admit. So is Clark, like, The One?”

Bruce ducked a swing at his head.

“Why would you say that?”

“You had dinner with him.”

“That’s your evidence?”

“The only other people you eat with are me and Alf.”

“And?”

Bruce blocked a series of hits with his gauntlets.

“You barely make time to eat with  _ us _ , why would you for some...  _ guy _ ?”

Bruce snorted a laugh.

“What?”

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“I’m 20. And I don’t have to be older to understand not to lead someone on who isn’t my match.”

Dick managed to fake Bruce out with one swing to land a hit on his calf. Bruce grunted.

“You think I’m leading him on?”

“If he isn’t your match, you’re leading him on. It’s pretty simple.”

_ I’m not leading him on. _

“Nothing is ever that simple, Dick.”

Dick rolled his eyes and ran in for another swing.

“Why would you let him just roam around the place anyway? He’s a reporter. What if he found something?”

Bruce caught one of the nightsticks before it hit his face.

“You don’t have to worry about Clark. He’s trustworthy.” He pulled it out of Dick’s hand and swatted him in the back with it.

“Ow. Ok, are you kidding me? He  _ has  _ to be your soulmate.”

“Leave it alone, Dick.” Bruce tossed him back the nightstick and Dick caught it with a huff. “Now stop talking, you’re getting sloppy.” 

Dick’s conservative remarks about dating didn’t really bother Bruce. He had never told Dick about his situation, so he couldn’t fault him on being insensitive. But as they continued to spar, Bruce couldn’t shake the image of Clark eating alone out of his head. (Why did it matter?) Or of him possibly leading him on. He wasn’t.  He  _ wasn’t.  _ Clark knew what this was. All this would be.


	10. What We Do To Each Other

Clark had made a terrible call. It had looked like an amature bank robbery from the outside. However, Clark knew there was something wrong as soon as he burst through the doors. For one, the men with the guns had clown masks. In Gotham there would be no questioning it, but the Joker had only been to Metropolis once. Five years ago. He never came back, said something about Superman not being as much fun to “play with.” Regardless, the clown aesthetic was notoriously a bad sign.

Clark didn’t see the Joker, but he did notice Lex Luthor among the hostages. Sure, Luthor could have been handling some business transaction here when the robbery started, but Clark wouldn’t bet on that. He was behind this somehow, or knew what was happening. There was a flash of something excited in his eyes when he caught sight of Superman. If not for his reflexes, Clark wouldn’t have caught it before the scared facade went back up.

What Clark noticed way too late was a familiar heaviness in his throat. Something he hadn’t felt in months.

* * *

 

It was a quiet afternoon in Gotham. All the better for causing a little chaos.

Joker slammed the breaks. The henchmen lurched forward as the old convertible squealed to a stop.

“Make a scene, boys.” Joker put the car in park and idled. “You’ve got five minutes from the first shot.”

Four clown painted faces nodded at him.

“Action!”

They ran out to the toy shop, guns pointed to the sky. Bystanders ran away from the scene, parents holding their kids close. The last man to enter the store fired a round into the air and gave Joker a thumbs up. Joker pressed play on the CD player and dulcet 80s tones accompanied the screaming coming from the toy store.

He put the top down and sang along while he waited.

 _“That’s where I want to be, the arms of Orion. Since you’ve been gone, babe~”_ A couple more gunshots rang out in the store. _“Since you’ve been gone I’ve been drowning, drowning, drowning, drowning without your love~”_

The song started to fade out to instrumentals. That meant He should be here any second. Joker tapped the wheel and stared at the rearview mirror under the brim of his hat.

_Come on, Batboy._

The henchmen burst out of the door with cash or whatever ridiculous loot they could carry. They hopped into the car and nervously looked back.

“Boss, Smiley’s still in there.”

“And?”

Joker was the only one who could pick up the telltale rumble of the approaching Batmobile. He started to rev the engine. The henchman nicknamed Smiley nearly crashed down into the passenger seat cradling whatever it was he stole. Joker didn’t notice him; he was too focused. Joker’s eyes lit up upon seeing the Batmobile turn onto the street. They took off towards Metropolis, Joker cackling with buzzing excitement.

They had a safe lead on Bats for the moment. In the meantime, Joker couldn’t help but be curious what had caused one of his henchmen to almost miss the bus.

“What’d ya get, Smiley?”

“It’s a Wonder Woman.” The doll vaguely resembled the actual thing. “My girl’s been wantin’ one a these.”

“Can I see?”

“Sure, Boss!”

He handed it over and Joker tossed it out the top of the car.

“Boss!”

Joker cackled as he watched Batbrain swerve to avoid it. His face flipped to serious when he looked back at his passenger.

“Now, Smiley, we’re supposed to be getting _rid_ of the Justice League. Not supporting their merch.”

“You’re right, boss…” Smiley deflated. Arguing would only get him killed.

“Look in the glove compartment, you big goof.” Smiley opened it to find a Harley Quinn doll among several handguns. “Now there’s someone your kid can look up to. You’ve got to be thinking about the morals you’re teaching, Smiley!”

“...Right.”

“Of course I’m right!”

“Boss, where is Miss Harley, anyway?” One of the henchmen in the back spoke up.

Joker’s hand twitched on the steering wheel.

“I don’t pay you to ask stupid questions. Now start shooting!”

The henchman scrambled to shoot in the vague direction of the Batmobile. It was just part of the show. Anything short of a bazooka wasn’t going to make a dent in that tank of a car.

He was getting too close. Usually that would be part of the fun, but Joker had to see this plan through to the end. He couldn’t wait to see the look on the Bat’s face. Just thinking about it made him laugh.

They sped down another street, weaving through traffic. Bats was almost close enough to grapple them. Joker grabbed the walkie-talkie in the cupholder.

“Go, now!” Joker growled into the receiver. His attention flicked between the bridge ahead and the rearview mirror.

A familiar tune jingled out of the alleyway the clown car whizzed by. Joker giggled when the ice cream truck crashed into the side of the Batmobile. Bat’s car soldiered through, so it was only a brief interruption. It was all that Joker needed. They made it across the bridge to Metropolis and it was just a few more streets till the bank was in sight.

“Hang on, boys!”

Joker nearly crashed into the side of the building when he stopped. The henchman in the middle of the back seat flew over the windshield. Joker hopped out, giddy, bouncing off of the groaning man’s belly on his way to the main entrance.

He threw the doors open with a flourish. Grin a mile wide on his face. His dark floor length coat was striking against the white marble of the bank. The henchmen outside were left to hold Batman back for as long as they could (half a minute at best).

“Sorry I’m late, fellas!” Joker flung his hat off his head, landing it perfectly on a captive bank teller who shrieked.

Superman was prone in the center of the room, fighting off the kryptonite planted somewhere by Luthor nearby. It wasn’t enough to completely incapacitate him and if Joker’s timing was right, the man of steel would have only been here a minute or two before he showed up.

“Lying down on the job, Superman?” Joker laughed, delighting in watching him struggle to his feet.

“Joker,” Superman faced Joker with as much dignity he could muster, wobbling to his feet, “aren’t you supposed to be Batman’s villain?”

“It’s so cute that you think this is really about _you..._ Well, _”_ Joker leered at Lex, who was being a model hostage. “At least for _me._ I wouldn’t give two hoots about you if you had just left dear old Bats alone.”

Superman started to advance on him. Gunshots and pained yells could be heard outside.

“Grab him!” Joker shouted.

All but one of the masked henchmen ran at Superman. He could take two of them down, but there were too many. He struggled in vain against their hold. The doors nearly flew off their hinges when He finally arrived. Joker pressed a button up his sleeve and a cluster of metal hidden above the door sprang to life.

* * *

 

Bruce was slammed down into the marble. His head swam for a few vital seconds before he started to struggle against the dead weight on his back.

“Look alive, Batsy!” That voice was a knife in Bruce’s side. “You’ve got a front row seat to the show!”

Bruce finally saw Clark held down into a kneeling position and Joker’s wild smile.

Bruce growled and tried to push himself up. The robot or whatever it was on him barely budged. His arms were pinned to his sides.

“Hold him steady!” Joker snapped his attention back to Superman. He drew a heavy custom gun out of his coat and stalked towards him. “You feelin’ lucky, Big Guy?”

Bruce saw Clark’s face pale and he knew instantly what was loaded in the barrel. There was no time to think. Bruce thrashed against the metal, kicking, elbowing, until he crawled half way out. The metal snagged him back, holding him in a mirrored kneeling position. But his arm was free. The gun charged in a high-pitched squeal and Joker’s laughter filled the room. The hostages voiced their distress at the scene and huddled closer together.

Bruce grappled Joker’s arm. The metal hooks dug in and Bruce reeled him back. The blast went off as Joker spun and stumbled. There was a green flash of light. Someone screamed. He dropped the gun and snarled at the grappling hook lodged in his forearm. Clark was safe… but he was yelling… why was he yelling?

Bruce didn’t know when he dropped the grappling hook. His right hand was completely limp. He was being held in place by the mech still. The foggy feeling in his head made him guess he’d be on the floor otherwise. His chest was warm. Bruce locked eyes with the Joker. He was seething.

“ _You better not die, you idiot. You aren’t leaving me here.”_ Joker tugged at the claws of the grappling hook and screamed through gritted teeth. It wouldn’t budge. “ _I’m not done with you yet!”_

Bruce looked down and a dull pain turned into a sharp heat by his collarbone. Blood. A lot of blood. His blood. Clark’s yelling came into focus again. Superman was fighting off the henchmen. It was easier now that they were nervous from the plan not going as it should have.

Bruce felt his eyes get heavy. The pain was pulsing. He knew he shouldn’t sleep. Had to get out of here.

“B-Batman stay with me.” Clark was there in front of him, hands shaking, face scuffed up.

Whatever Kryptonite was in Bruce’s shoulder was purer than what had been in the room before. Clark was sweating and swearing, trying to get the metal around Bruce to budge. It wouldn’t.

“ _Stop. -Hurting you._ ” Bruce graveled. The closer Clark got to Bruce, the weaker he was. That much was obvious.

Clark scoffed and shook his head.

“It’s hurting _you.”_ Clark’s eyes were wide with worry. “What do I do?”

Bruce shook his still working hand, waking up the touch screen on his wrist.

“ _Call backup._ ”

Clark grabbed his hand and found the option to send a distress call to the other members of the Justice League. He was stopped short by a solid whack to the head. Joker stood above them, wielding the empty Kryptonite gun like a bat. The grappling hook was still lodged in his other arm.

“Aren’t you two _cute._ ” Joker’s voice was dripping with malice. He landed a solid kick to Clark’s ribs before he could get up again.

Bruce looked down at his wrist screen. They were so close. He tried to reach the button with his fingers on the same arm, but the bend was impossible.

“With Bats biting the bullet I’ll just have to kill you the old fashioned way.” Joker tossed the gun aside and slipped a switchblade out of his sleeve.

Bruce gritted his teeth against the pain. He maneuvered his wrist until he was able to hit it against the numb fingers on his other hand. The distress signal was sent. Now both of them just had to focus on not dying before backup came. Much easier said than done.

Bruce watched Clark and Joker. If not for Joker’s dominate hand being useless, Clark would have been a pincushion by now. Clark was slow and hurting. Joker lived for the pain.

Bruce knew there was something up when Joker was heading out of Gotham. He should have tried harder to stop him.

Bruce took a deep breath. He’d have to keep his heart rate down or he’d bleed out in a matter of minutes. Focus. Clark yelled out from a cut on his arm. Breathe in. Bruce needed to train him to fight without powers. He should have thought of that before this. Breathe out. Were there always seven henchman in here?

Joker and Clark were too busy to notice what happened next behind them. One of the clown masked men knocked out another with the butt of his gun. He knocked out a second before the rest took notice and began to defend themselves. They opened fire. The bullets went right through him without leaving a mark. His body contorted, stretching out and wrapping around them like a boa constrictor. It only took a few seconds for them to pass out. Martian Manhunter’s form replaced the henchman’s as he flew over to the Joker.

The clown was tossed across the room. Clark ran over to Bruce. He had some cuts on him, but it didn’t look like anything too important was punctured.

“Still with us?” Clark cupped his face.

Bruce grunted.

“Superman, allow me.” J’onn pushed on Clark’s shoulder gently.

He bent the metal away from Bruce with ease and steadied him when he wavered.

“Get him out of here. I will handle this.” J’onn left them and went to deal with Joker who was already up again.

Clark struggled a bit to pick him up. Bruce was too busy keeping his breathing steady to comment on it. He looked over Clark’s shoulder while he was carried out.

“Hey, Batsy~ You see what we do to each other?” Joker motioned to his dead arm while he backed away from J’onn. “We match!” He cackled as Superman rushed Batman out the door. “Careful with the suit, Marvin. Bats won’t like it if you damage the goods.”

Bruce opened the hatch on the batmobile with a button on his belt. Clark lowered him into the driver’s seat and hopped into the passenger’s.

“What are you doing?”

“Am I supposed to just let you go by yourself?” Clark took off his cape and bunched it up. He pressed it down onto Bruce’s wound. His hands shook. “I’m coming with you.”

The hatch closed.

“Autopilot: cave.” Bruce projected as well as he could.

The car backed up and sped off. They’d be there in a matter of minutes.

“Who’s supposed to fix this? What’s the plan?” Clark’s voice shook.

“Call: Alfred.” Bruce coughed and winced at the pain. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath while the call was wired through. “You talk.”

The rest of the ride was a blur for Bruce. His head felt tight. He was losing too much blood. He would pass out soon. Breathe in. He was lying flat now, legs hitched up on the steering wheel. Clark must have found the lever to put his seat down. Breathe out. Things were a bit clearer now. The blood rushing back to his brain. Clark’s hand pressing down on his shoulder. Red cape soaked with blood. Clark’s voice. Clark’s hand on his face. Clark’s eyes. Clark’s mouth. Clark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter, work has been keeping me busy! I'm going to try and get the next one out quickly so you guys don't have to worry about Bruce for too long ;)
> 
> Song is "The Arms of Orion" by Prince.


	11. I've Felt Worse

Clark felt sick. His hand was tacky with the blood that had started to dry. His fingers were growing numb from the proximity of the Kryptonite. He pushed the cape down harder. The weight of worry bobbed in his throat. Bruce was smiling, unguarded. That just made Clark worry more.

“Hold on. We’re almost there.” _I think._

Clark had never been to the Batcave. He had had some silly fantasies in the past of how Bruce would bring him there for the first time. Some of them involved the Batmobile. None of them had included potentially fatal wounds.

The Batmobile brought them down a barely paved road towards the back of the Wayne property. It was lined with forest that grew denser as they went. They took a sharp turn off the road, whisking through everything in their path: holograms of trees, logs, rocks. Finally, they sped through the side of a steep hill. Everything was dark for a moment before small lights on the side of the cave flicked on. The rock underneath them transitioned into metal. A few more turns and the tunnel opened up. The dimly lit space was absolutely cavernous. Clark spotted a helicopter, a jet, computers as wide as his apartment, and directly in front of them, an operating table and Alfred.

The Batmobile eased to a stop and the hatch opened.

“Get him to the table, quickly.” Alfred rolled up his sleeves. The only thing that betrayed his composure was the quick dart of his eyes.

Clark carried Bruce over as well as he could. The kryptonite was wearing at him. He was exhausted. He wouldn’t let that stop him. Bruce groaned when he was put down. His numb arm dangled uselessly off the table. Clark stepped aside for Alfred. He didn’t know what to do and the last thing he wanted was to be in the way.

Alfred removed Superman’s blood encrusted cape and looked over the damage. He lifted Bruce’s arm onto the table by his side.

“Must have hit the brachial artery.” Alfred went to work removing the top half of Bruce’s suit. “Bring the I.V. over.”

Clark retrieved it, rolling it to the table. It was already prepared with one bag filled with saline and another with blood. Bruce’s chest was bare now. The bullet wound was hard to look at. It had a faint green glow to it. Clark had managed to stop the bleeding on the ride over at least. Alfred took off Bruce’s gauntlets. His hands hesitated near Bruce’s head.

“It’s ok. I know.”

Alfred squinted at him then nodded. He took off Bruce’s cowl and Bruce blinked at the light above the table. He looked dazed. He started to push himself up with his good arm.

“Woah, Bruce, nonono.” Clark pushed his good shoulder down gently. His skin was so cold and clammy. “We’re here. Stay down.”

Bruce’s eyes met his and crinkled into a smile.

_You’re freaking me out._

Alfred lifted him up slightly to check his back. He sighed.

“No exit wound.” Alfred picked up a pair of forceps in a gloved hand. “There’s a lead box under the desk.”

Clark found it and placed it by Bruce’s head on the table. Alfred was holding Bruce’s shoulder steady while he cleaned some blood out of the area with a wet towel. Bruce grunted and almost bucked up. His face was twisted in pain.

“Hold him down.”

Clark followed the order with a hand on Bruce’s chest. He could feel the pound of his heart. Alfred pulled out a small chunk of Kryptonite with the forceps. It clinked into the box.

“I would leave the bullet if not for its material.” Alfred said without looking at him.

Clark had the feeling getting it out was more a favor to him than Bruce. It was silly to think, but it still didn’t sit well.

Another bit of Kryptonite went into the box.

“Is there more?” Alfred glanced up at him expectantly.

Clark looked at the wound. He was still weak, but he may be able to manage this. He used his x-ray vision for nearly a second and it was obvious there was still some left. It hurt like looking directly at the sun. Clark squeezed his eyes shut and the afterimage of the Kryptonite stayed with him.

“Yes.” His head pounded. “There’s one more piece.”

The last chunk of Kryptonite soon joined the others. Alfred closed the box and Clark could almost breathe again. Almost. Alfred cleaned around the area again with a clean cloth.

“Hold him up. Arm out of the way.”

Clark obliged and Alfred dressed the wound. The gauze wrapped around his chest and arm to secure in place. Bruce leaned into Clark. He gripped his shoulder from around Clark’s back. Clark couldn’t help the affection that bloomed in his chest. Bruce was conscious. He would be fine.

“Alright.” Alfred eyed the two. “Set him back down. We’re almost done.”

Clark unhooked Bruce’s hand and brought him down gently. Alfred rolled the I.V. stand closer and cleaned Bruce’s dull arm for the blood transfusion. The needle went in and was taped down. Alfred took a deep breath and removed his bloody gloves.

“Is that it?” Clark’s heart was still racing.

“All we can do now is let Master Bruce rest. He’s been through worse than this.” Alfred smoothed Bruce’s sweaty hair away from his forehead. “I daresay he’ll be putting _that costume_ back on by the end of the week.”

Bruce’s breathing had already evened out. He was asleep.

“Thank you, Alfred. You’re amazing.”

“Thank _you_ for bringing him here quickly.” Alfred stood straight, his hands behind his back. He looked Bruce over. “The Justice League has been great for Master Bruce. He needed more friends his age.”

Clark laughed and some tension left his shoulders. He glanced at the blood bag that was slowly emptying.

“Whose blood is that?”

“Master Bruce keeps a ready supply of his own blood handy for events such as these.” Alfred sighed and nodded his head to a small fridge nearby. “One would think a vampire lived here.”

Clark would have thought the idea funny if the reality of it wasn’t so morbid. Bruce was so prepared for the worst that he drew his own blood every month? It almost made him shudder. Alfred turned his attention to Clark finally.

“You’re quite banged up yourself, Superman.” Alfred scanned over the knicks and bruises left by the Joker and his henchmen.

“I’ll live. I just need a bit of time in the sun tomorrow.”

“Hm.” Alfred looked skeptical.

Clark suddenly felt awkward. Should he leave? He didn’t want to.

“Do you mind if I... stay here with him tonight?”

“Be my guest. There’s a sling for his arm here when he wakes up. He shouldn’t be moving it.” Alfred gave him a pointed look, then took out a blanket and a pillow for Bruce. They were quickly put in place. “Should you need anything else, there’s a button on the desk to call me.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“Of course.”

Clark waited till Alfred had left in the elevator to move. He rolled a desk chair over to the side of the operating table. Bruce was sleeping soundly. Clark rested his elbow on the table and laid his other hand over Bruce’s heart. The steady beat was a comfort to him. If Bruce hadn’t made it… he wasn’t going to think about that. He couldn’t.

* * *

 

Clark woke up to his hand being squeezed.

“Hey.” Bruce smiled at him. Clark’s hand was still on his chest, now with Bruce’s on top of it.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” Clark glanced at the bandages. They hadn’t bled through.

“I’ve felt worse.”

“That’s not as comforting as you might think it is.” Clark winced a little as Bruce pulled the I.V. out. “Should you be doing that?”

Bruce gave him a look and proceeded to bandage himself up with practiced ease. Clark just watched him until Bruce started to push himself off the table.

“Wait!” Clark stood up. “You have to... put your arm in this.” Clark brought over the sling. Bruce frowned at him. “Alfred’s orders.”

Bruce sighed and let Clark help him put his arm into it properly.

“It hit the brachial artery?”

“I think that’s what Alfred said.”

Bruce clenched and unclenched his hand with an awkward slowness.

“It’ll heal… or I’ll buy a new one.”

“You can buy arteries?”

“A new arm.”

Clark blanched.

“Well I hope it doesn’t come to _that.”_

Bruce slid off the table.

“Do you need help? I can carry you?”

“He didn’t shoot my legs.”

Clark frowned and followed him to the elevator. When they were both inside, Bruce grabbed Clark’s arm.

“You’re hurt.”

There was a jagged slash down the back of Clark’s forearm. Of course it had been bothering Clark, but it wasn’t going to kill him.

“It’ll heal in the sun. Don’t worry about it.”

Bruce turned his arm over to the front and caught sight of his bare wrist beyond his tattered sleeve. Bruce sighed through his nose and let Clark’s arm drop.

“What?”

The elevator opened up down the hall from Bruce’s room. Early morning light was seeping in through the windows.

_How long was I out?_

“I’m taking a shower.” Bruce strode down the hall and Clark trailed him.

“Should you? With the gauze and everything?”

“I know what I’m doing.” Clark could almost hear his eyes roll. “I’ve been shot _before._ ”

“Again: not comforting.”

Bruce stopped in front of the master bathroom. He looked Clark over.

“Go heal up.” Bruce could see his hesitation. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Ok.”

Clark looked at Bruce’s bracelet. It stood out against his pale skin, mocking him. He wanted to rip it off. Burn it down to nothing with his heat vision.

Bruce left him in the hallway with a swift close of the door.

_What are we?_

Clark opened the tall window at the end of the hallway and leaped out. The second the direct sunlight hit him his heart swelled. He shot up a few hundred feet with his eyes closed, feeling the wind in his hair. When he opened them he saw Gotham stretched out beneath him. The red sun peeked out from the skyline and bathed everything in a pink glow.

Clark wanted Bruce. He wanted to start his day laying next to him. He wanted to save the world by his side. He wanted to be there for him at night after a long patrol. He didn’t want anyone else. That thought was terrifying.

Bruce nearly gave his life for him just hours ago. That had to mean _something_. It wouldn’t be crazy to think they had something more than just a fling, right? “Super friends with benefits” didn’t sound sufficient. No, Clark was sure this was something else entirely. What they had was worth more than whatever mark was hidden on Bruce’s wrist. Bruce was a man of logic and reason. Why would he believe in the authority of soulmates anyway? He was supposed to trust what some birthmark told him? No, Bruce had to see the strength of what they had together. It may be unconventional, but they were hardly conventional people.

Clark checked the back of his arm. He was all healed and more than that; he was confident. He was going to go down there and talk to Bruce. Alfred had told him to be patient and that meant there was hope. There had to be.

Bruce would understand.

* * *

The hot water ran down Bruce’s scarred back. His forehead pressed against the cool tile.

 _How far is this going to go? How far am I going to_ let _this go?_

The weight of his actions sat with him. They both could have died yesterday. He may have been composed in front of Clark, but his mind had been racing since he got up. Clark was there by his side, brow worried in his sleep. He was beaten and bruised and looked so tired. So unlike him. And it was all because of Bruce. He was letting this go too far and even Joker knew it. He had to stop leading Clark on or one of them was going to end up dead. Probably Clark. Bruce couldn’t live with himself if that happened.

But the thought of turning Clark away was like a knife at his throat. It he did it he’d bleed out. If he didn’t, Clark would eventually.

Bruce clenched his hand in the sling. He was resolved. He had to do it. For Clark’s sake. He would go out there and tell Clark that it was over. That it had to be. They got off easy yesterday. It was only a matter of time before this _thing_ between them cost them more than they could pay.

Clark would understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger! At least this time no one's dying, right?


	12. If That's What You Want

Clark paced in the hallway. There had to be a perfect way to phrase it. His argument had to be solid. Bruce was so stubborn when it came to… well, most everything.

His mind went blank, however, when Bruce emerged from the steaming bathroom. He was barely wearing a red silk robe. One of the sleeves was unused, his healing arm slung over the fabric. Clark couldn’t help but be distracted by the exposed skin, the way the robe was an inch too short. He was toweling off his hair. Or more like _trying_ to. It looked awkward with just one hand.

“Here, let me-” Clark zipped over to him and helped ruffle his hair with the towel.

Bruce let him, his hand dropping. He just looked at him. Clark couldn’t place the emotion in Bruce’s eyes. Whatever it was, it was complicated. A drop of water traveled down Bruce’s neck. Clark rubbed it away with his thumb. Bruce swallowed. Clark could feel the bob of his adam’s apple under his hand.

“ _Clark...”_

The world became warm and small. Two bodies alone in the universe. The towel fell, forgotten. Neither could remember who made the move but they were kissing. Clark trailed his hand up to card through Bruce’s wet hair. Their breath grew hot and heavy. Quick gasps and Bruce’s hand pulling Clark closer by his suit.

“Thank you.” Clark husked against Bruce’s mouth.

“For what?”

“You saved my life.”

Bruce pulled back to look him in the eyes. Again, that complicated look.

“Did you want anything else?”

_You. I want you._

Clark smoothed through his hair.

“Well?”

Clark cupped Bruce’s hard face and kissed him. He tried to put everything he couldn’t say into it. Everything he couldn’t ask of him. He was too afraid. Terrified this would be over if he said it out loud.

Bruce drew back, barely an inch.

“I can’t do much right now.” His voice was thick.

“You don’t have to do anything.”

* * *

 

_You’re weak. You’re selfish. This is self indulgent. Don’t you care about him?_

Bruce did and that’s why he didn’t stop him. He let Clark carry him to the bed. Let him reveal his skin, inch by inch. Let him kiss down his body. Let him suck marks into his hip.

_It’s the blood loss._

It wasn’t.

_You’re losing control._

He was.

Clark took Bruce’s shaft in his mouth. He went slow like he was savoring it. Bruce closed his eyes and couldn’t help the small noises that bubbled up.

“Is this too much?” Clark absently stroked a thick scar on Bruce’s thigh.

“No.”

_You idiot. You should have stopped this before it started. You’re going to kick him out after this?_

Clark sucked on the head of Bruce’s dick. His tongue wrung a moan out of Bruce.

_You’re heartless._

“Can I- inside me?” Clark looked up at him.

His eyes were so kind. So gentle. Bruce nodded.

_Barewristed._

Clark coated Bruce’s dick with lube and mounted him slowly.

_You can get this anywhere. You’re Bruce Wayne._

As Clark sped up, the jolting contact ricocheted up Bruce’s chest. He couldn’t help the pained grunt it caused.

“Sorry!” Clark stopped at once.

“No it’s… ok.”

_Don’t stop. I deserve it._

Clark frowned thinking for a moment, then started to laugh under his breath.

“What?”

“I uh, have an idea.” Clark’s smile was crooked. A blush was forming on his cheeks.

Before Bruce could ask, Clark floated up. He hovered, kneeling above him. The only thing keeping him attached to the Earth was... well…

Bruce couldn’t help but laugh. He tried to hide his face with his good hand. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed so hard.

“Shut up! I think this will work.” Clark was giggling too.

Clark started to move. Tentatively at first. It didn’t hurt. Laughs soon turned into heady moans.

_So good to me. Too good. Too good. Too... far away._

Bruce reached out to Clark. Clark leaned down to meet him, his hands supported on the headboard. They kissed.

_What if this is the last time?_

A spike of panic hit Bruce. Clark paused.

“You ok?”

“M’ fine. Don’t stop.”

Bruce kissed him again, holding his head down. Clark was happy to oblige. Bruce tugged on his lip when he pulled back to moan. Bruce’s bracelet rubbed against Clark’s chin.

_Take it off._

That thought nearly paralyzed him.

“Bruce?”

“Harder.”

Clark kissed his neck and did as he was told. Bruce shuddered. His shoulder ached. The pain was welcome. A distraction. And it worked. The pleasure and pain clouded his screaming thoughts. At least for the time being.

Clark came with a shaking gasp by Bruce’s ear. That was enough to set Bruce off in turn.

Clark pulled out of him, cleaned them both off, then collapsed on Bruce’s good side. Clark rolled over, resting his hand on Bruce’s chest. Legs overlapped. Clark’s nose brushed against Bruce’s cheek.

_Why can’t this be easy. This easy..._

Bruce didn’t move. He wanted to sink into the bed. He was falling asleep as Clark shifted closer to him.

“I love you.” Clark spoke so softly Bruce almost thought he imagined the words.

Bruce’s eyes shot open. A sinkhole opened up in his stomach. As it grew larger the air constricted around him. He was too hot where Clark touched him. Too cold where he didn’t. His breathing shallowed. He tried to hide all of this from the man next to him. Tried to breath deep through his nose. He shook. He was suffocating. How could he hide it?

“What is it?” Clark sat up, surprised. “Does it hurt?”

“I-I need some air.” Bruce got up too fast, chafing his shoulder. His breathing grew faster and the pit inside him wanted to swallow him. But it wouldn’t and the waiting to be swallowed was the worst part.

Bruce grabbed his robe and threw it on as he went out to the balcony. He braced his good hand on the railing and leaned over. He was practically hyperventilating.

_What the hell?_

He was having a goddamn panic attack and for what?

_‘I love you.’_

_You don’t know what you’re talking about. You can’t. I can’t._

Bruce’s stomach twisted again.

“Bruce? Are you ok?” Clark spoke beside him and Bruce nearly flinched.

_Dammit, Clark, leave it alone._

“Must be something I ate.” Bruce tried to swallow his labored breathing. Tears pricked at his eyes.

“We haven’t- Do you want me to get you anything?”

“No, I’m fine…” Bruce saw Clark approaching in his periphery and his heart rate shot up again.

“You are _not fine…_ Bruce, you can _talk_ to me. You can _trust_ me.”

Bruce chanced a glance at him. Clark was burdened with worry. It weighed heavy on him.

_Too good. Too good for me._

“Clark…” Bruce swallowed and closed his eyes. “I think you should leave.”

Clark was silent and Bruce finally turned to look at him. His face was stone.

“I… want to be alone.”

“Alright.” Clark’s jaw was tight. “If that’s what you want.”

Clark hesitated. His throat bobbed. Bruce blinked and he was gone. The only sign he had ever been there was the rumpled sheets of the bed.

Bruce thought it would be over, but his panic only shot up higher.

_You’re a monster._

_‘I love you.’_

_How could you?_

Bruce stayed on the balcony until his breathing finally evened. He walked back to his bed. The rumpled sheets twisted the knot back in his gut. This wasn’t over yet. Bruce needed to end this officially. An hour must have passed before there was a knock on the door.

“Are you decent?” Alfred’s voice came from the hallway.

“Come in.”

Alfred came in brandishing a tray with two plates full of a complete breakfast. The small smile on his face dropped.

“Superman isn’t joining us for breakfast?”

“He had somewhere else to be.”

“Hm… Shall I leave this here then?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Alfred set the tray down anyway.

“Any other lies you’d like to tell me before I leave you to your sulking, Master Bruce?”

Bruce was jolted by the question. They weren’t complete lies. Clark _did_ have somewhere else to be: anywhere but here. How this panned out didn’t leave him with much of an appetite either.

“Alfred… I’m tired.”

Tired of this. Tired of so much more that Bruce wasn’t yet conscious of.

“ _That_ I believe.” Alfred sighed. “Your arm will heal soon enough. The artery wasn’t hit too badly. Let yourself heal before you go out galavanting again. Gotham will survive without Batman for a few days. Dick is back. This Justice League can handle itself, I’m sure. You aren’t _alone._ ” There was a weight behind his words that Bruce was sure meant he was talking about more than just Gotham. “Now don’t let this get cold, Master Bruce.” He turned to leave, having said his peace.

“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce felt small and far away.

Alfred gave him a curt nod and left him to his wallowing recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter one this time, but big things are coming. Loving the comments you guys are leaving!


	13. We Need To Talk

Master Bruce hadn’t talked the whole day. Any communication was reduced to grunts. As much as Bruce wanted to pull it off as symptomatic of his recovery, it was obvious this was something bigger. Alfred had to be the one to explain what had transpired with Joker to Dick. Bruce had just left the room instead of answering his questions.

The next day was much the same, but now Bruce rarely left the cave. Even the few hours he slept were on the cot in the cave. He busied his time researching suspicious activity around Gotham or tinkering with his suit or gadgets. It wasn’t healthy, but at least he wasn’t out getting injured again.

Alfred brought down some food for Bruce that night. He found him hunched over a table. Goggles blocked out the harsh blue light from the equipment he used on a gauntlet. It looked like he was installing something on one of the fingers. No sooner had Alfred set the tray down, the phone rang.

“Wayne residence.”

“Hi, Alfred, it’s Clark. Clark Kent. Is Bruce there?”

“I’m sleeping.” Bruce didn’t look up from his work or pause at all.

_So this is how we’re handling it._

“...Master Bruce is resting.”

“Ok… how is he doing?”

“He’s fairing well.”

Bruce cocked his head.

“Good… give him my best.”

“I will. Have a nice day, Mr. Kent.”

“Thanks, Alfred. You too.”

Alfred hung up and watched Bruce go back to work as if nothing happened.

“Clark sends his regards.”

Bruce grunted.

_This won’t do at all._

* * *

 

As Alfred had predicted, Bruce was out fighting crime again by the end of the week. He had patched up and reinforced the armor on his suit. Distress signal buttons were installed on each of the gauntlets. Now he would be able to call for help with only one hand free. His shoulder was still sore, but he was no longer in danger of reopening the wound. It was time to get out of the house. He needed a distraction.

Bruce found Poison Ivy robbing a high-end purse store in downtown Gotham. Not her usual M.O.. Must have something to do with Quinn’s influence on her. The two had started to team up when they matched months ago. Harley had stopped pining after Joker immediately when he couldn’t use the ambiguity of his mark to keep her invested any more. Joker was never actually interested in her beyond appreciating the company, but the loss of his #2 was obviously a sore spot for him.

Thinking about the drama behind this situation wasn’t doing anything to help distract Bruce from soulmates. But fighting off carnivorous plants growing out of the marble floor? That was more like it.

A call came in on his communicator.

_Damn it._

Bruce answered between cutting vines with his batarang.

“Yes?”

“It’s Clark, sir. He’s on the other line.”

“I’m busy.”

“Very well, sir. Will there be a time when you are _not_ busy?”

“I’m always busy.”

Alfred sighed and clicked off the line.

Bruce knew he would have to talk to Clark eventually, but not now. Not now...

* * *

 

“Did Bruce get tired of that reporter guy, or what?” Dick strode into the study without so much as a greeting. He took so much after Bruce whether he would admit it or not. “Haven’t seen him around at all.”

Alfred looked up from the bills and other plans for the charity benefit coming up.

“I assume you mean Clark Kent?”

“Yeah what happened to tall, bright, and nerdy?”

“Master Bruce is presently screening his calls.”

“Harsh. But they’re not soulmates, right?”

“Does it make it better if they aren’t?”

“...Sorta. Still not the most mature way to go about it.”

“And are you going to be the one to tell him that, Master Dick?”

Dick paled a little. He had gotten better about confronting Bruce the past few years, but that didn’t mean it was easy.

“If I did he wouldn’t listen.”

Alfred hummed. He feared the same if he set up an intervention. Still, it would have to happen soon. Bruce was doing his best to avoid any kind of conversation, unfortunately. The phone on the desk rang. Alfred sighed.

_Speak of the devil..._

“Wayne residence.”

“Alfred, sorry to call again. Is Bruce there?”

_What was the assigned excuse today, again?_

“He’s tied up with work I’m afraid.” Alfred tapped his pen on the desk.

Dick crossed his arms. It was obvious who was on the other line.

“Of course he is.” Clark sighed. “I know you said to be patient, but… It’s been weeks and I haven’t heard anything.”

Alfred’s heart went out to the man.

“I meant every word I said the day we met, Mr. Kent. I still do. You may feel it is best to give him some space right now, but… the direct approach may yield better results.”

“Right… I’ll stop taking up your time with these calls for now.” He laughed humorlessly. “Give him my best, ok, Alfred?”

“Of course.” Alfred hoped his advice would for once be heeded. “And you have never wasted my time.”

“...Thank you, Alfred.”

“Until next time, Mr. Kent.”

“Goodbye.”

Alfred hung up the phone and looked over the papers on his desk. An idea was forming in his head. A fail safe if Clark or Bruce didn’t resolve this on their own.

“‘The direct approach,’ huh?” Dick’s presence in the room had almost been forgotten. “So you’re supporting this?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Has Kent given you any reason not to trust him?”

“Well, for one, he’s a reporter. And two, Bruce is loaded. Sure, Bruce trusts him, which is _big_. But Bruce also still has hope in Arkham’s rehabilitation program.”

_Ah, you don’t know yet. I thought it was obvious._

“Well, Master Dick, if it means anything, _I_ have absolute faith in Kent’s intentions.”

“But they aren’t soulmates, are they? You never answered that.”

Dick’s faith in soulmarks had never wavered. His appeared when he was fourteen. Alfred remembered that morning clearly. Dick had ran downstairs to share with them. He had watched Bruce’s reaction closely. It seemed some tension left him that day. His son wouldn’t have to bare the same uncertainty he did.

“They don’t have to be soulmates to be good for each other.”

Dick’s brows furrowed. That idea had never crossed his mind it seemed.

“Why should they have to deprive themselves of present happiness for the sake of future happiness that isn’t guaranteed?” Alfred challenged. “You _know_ not everyone is so lucky as to meet their soulmate.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” Dick suddenly remembered Alfred’s situation. “…but Clark? Really? He’s just so…”

“What?”

“Normal?”

Alfred smiled.

“You don’t think Master Bruce needs something _normal_ in his life?”

“When you put it that way, he’s long overdue.” Dick laughed.

“Indeed.”

* * *

Bruce had been dreading the biweekly Justice League meeting. His worry had been sound. It was going even worse than he expected. He kept catching Clark staring at him. The newly inducted Hawkgirl and Cyborg were either too polite to mention the odd tension between the two ends of the table or they didn’t notice. Bruce was betting on the former. Flash and Green Lantern were obviously whispering about them and Aquaman kept glancing worriedly at the two. Diana and J’onn were doing their best to keep the meeting running despite this.

“Batman, Superman… J’onn informed us of the incident with Joker in Metropolis at the last meeting.” Diana offered. “Joker had kryptonite, yes?”

“He got that and the gun from Lex Luthor.” Clark responded. “Of course there’s no proof that would hold up in court. Even if the Joker cared to testify, who would believe him?”

“One day Luthor will not cover his tracks so carefully.” J’onn attempted to ease Clark’s frustration. “Your wounds are better now, yes, Batman?”

“I’m here aren’t I?”

“And what a surprise that is.” Clark chimed in. “Gotham’s been keeping you _busy,_ hasn’t it? You managed to pull yourself away?”

“Yes, between recovering and fighting the typical rogues gallery I made some time for this.”

“So more of the usual then? Doesn’t sound _that_ time consuming.” Clark fired back.

~ _Not here. Please, be civil._

J’onn’s plea rang through both their heads. They shot glares at him. Flash coughed.

“Well,” Diana cleared her throat loudly. “If no one has anything else to report…”

A hurried chorus of ‘no’s and shaking heads responded.

“Meeting adjourned. May the fates be on our side.”

Bruce and Clark’s chairs scraped against the floor in unison as they got up. Bruce was closer to the door and wasted no time with his retreat.

* * *

 

Clark caught up to Bruce in the same empty hallway from months ago. The place this all started.

“We need to talk.” Clark blocked his path to the exit.

“It can wait till next meeting.”

“Not _work_ , you know what I mean.”

“No personal talk in costume. You know how to reach me.” Bruce attempted to brush past him, but Clark blocked him again. Bruce crossed his arms.

“I’ve been _trying_ to reach you and you’ve been _ignoring_ me.”

“... _This_ isn’t working.”

“What are you talking about? It _was_ before-” Clark shook his head. “Whatever it is we can work through it! Just _talk_ to me.”

“ _This_ almost got us both killed.”

“ _What?_ You putting yourself in harms way is suddenly _my fault?_ You’ve been pulling stunts like that for _ten years!_ I’ve _seen_ the scars. _”_

“I’ve lasted this long because of thinking things through. I almost died because- _I can’t THINK when you’re around.”_

_What is that supposed to mean?_

Clark stayed quiet.

“We made a mistake.”

“Sure, we both should have been more careful in assuming it was just another bank robbery. But that’s not because of-of _sleeping together!_ We messed up. We survived. We learn from it and we _get over it.”_

 _“No._ I’m not talking about just the bank. This _whole thing._ Was a _mistake.”_

“ _No._ Everything was _fine before that.”_ Clark was shaking in frustration. He knew what had actually set Bruce off. “What was _my_ mistake? _Loving_ you?”

Bruce paused.

“You don’t _love_ me.”

Clark’s mouth fell open.

 _“WHAT?”_ His eyes nearly glowed red. ”How can you say that? You think you know _everything,_ don’t you?”

Bruce turned away from him, swiping at his arm display. Clark fumed and stepped closer.

“If you don’t _want me, tell me._ You can at least do _that.”_

Bruce looked up at him. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again.

“But that would be a _lie, wouldn’t it, Bruce?_ What are you so afraid of?”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“It’s ok to _feel things, Bruce_.”

“Not when it gets in the way.”

“Gets in the way of _what?_ ”

“We’re here to protect people, not _screw around._ When we’re _distracted_ , that puts civilians at risk. Joker could have shot any one of those hostages. We were _lucky_ it was me.”

“ _That_ has _nothing_ to do with- is that all I am to you? A _distraction?_ ”

“What else would you be?”

Clark wanted to punch him. Strangle him. Something.

“I tried to be patient. I really did.” Clark mumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“...I feel bad for them.”

“Who?”

“Whoever your soulmate is that ends up having to deal with this _shit._ Or this isn’t how you’d treat them? Right? Because they wouldn’t just be a _distraction._ They’d be _worthy_ of Bruce Wayne’s _precious time.”_

“Clark. I’m trying to do what’s best for both of us.”

“ _And why do you get to decide what’s best for me?”_ Clark waited for an answer. There wasn’t one. “You know what, Bruce? Fu- _”_ Clark stopped in his tracks.

“ _What,_ Clark?”

“Do you smell that?”

Bruce sniffed and was immediately on the alert.

“Fear toxin.”

“ _Fear toxin_?”

“Scarecrow must have set it off in the vents.” Bruce was starting to feel it, but he knew how to control its effect. He checked his wrist display for a scan of the building. None of the alarms had been set off. He would just have to do it manually to alert the others.

Emergency lights flared on in the hallway.

“What’s Scarecrow doing here?”

“Good question. He’s probably not working alone. He’s not stupid.” Bruce startled and looked behind Clark. “Do you see that?”

Clark looked behind him.

“No?”

“Good.” Bruce relaxed slightly. “If it starts to affect you, don’t trust what you see. I doubt it’s potent enough to- that’s... different.” Bruce shook his head.

“Are you ok?”

“Let’s just… stop this before something… actually happens.” Bruce’s hands were clenching and unclenching. There must be more hallucinations he was seeing.

Clark scanned the building with his x-ray vision and listened. Flash and Green Lantern were in the breakroom, scared of something that wasn’t there. Beyond that, his view was obscured, like a fog cast in the distance.

“See him?”

“No, it’s… Interfering with my vision.”

“That’s... not good.” Bruce flinched away from a hallucination.

“Don’t you have a gas mask or something?”

“It’s usually… not this strong…”

“Still not a great idea to just breathe it in.”

“Realizing that.”

“So you admit not all of your ideas are great?”

“Let’s save the argument for _after_ we deal with this, shall we _?”_ Bruce backed away, suddenly. “Ok, do you see _that?_ ”

Clark did a double take. There was a cloaked figure down the hallway floating towards them.

“ _Yes._ ” As soon as he spoke, the figure flickered out of existence. “Was _that_ Scarecrow?”

“No. Scarecrow can’t teleport.”

Clark backed up to stand beside Bruce.

“It looked like a ghost.”

“Ghosts aren’t real. Wait, are you afraid of them?”

“No! Do you think we’re having a joint hallucination?”

“It’s possible.”

“But ghosts aren’t?”

“No, that’s how I can tell the difference between reality and the hallucinations.”

“Oh."  _Hallucinating his parents probably. Need to work on that._  "So _who was that?_ ”

“ _I don’t know._ I would have told you.”

“Excuse me for thinking you might withhold information…”

“ _Now isn’t the time._ ”

“When _is_ the time?”

“NOT. NOW.” Bruce growled at him. And promptly phased through the floor with a startled yell.

Clark didn’t have time to react. Something grabbed him from behind. The cloaked figure. A skeletal face. He blinked and the world turned red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will our boys ever get their shit together? Who is this new villain? Will Alfred ever give Bruce that intervention? Will Poison Ivy be able to get out of Arkham Asylum to get Harley that anniversary present? Find out the answers to most of these questions next time in Chapter 14: Are We Done Here?


	14. Are We Done Here?

Everything is dark and Bruce is falling. He reaches for his grappling hook. It isn’t there. The dread feels familiar. He almost remembers. He hits the ground. Hard. His head swims. The streetlight buzzes on. Red.

Red light. Red blood. Red hands. Small hands. Small. Mom looks small. Spread out on the street.

“Mom?” Her eyes are far far away. She looks through him. Mouth turned up in that pitying smile.

Bruce doesn’t stay this time. He runs.

He runs down the street. Away from his parents who have left, but can never leave. He runs until he hears a gun cock and his father jumps in front of him. Thomas Wayne falls to the ground and Bruce keeps on running. Passed the man with the gun. Passed the pearls in the gutter.

The gun cocks again and his mother reaches for him. A bleeding smile.

“Stop it!” Bruce yells and he runs.

He runs until his lungs hurt and the sweat clings to his kevlar. Kevlar!

“This isn’t real.” Bruce wasn’t small. His shoulder ached. “You’re going to have to try better than that, Crane.”

“Crane isn’t here, though his handiwork did have a role to play.” The voice came from down the alley. Bruce followed it.

“Then who are you?”

The cloaked figure came out of the shadows, skull first.

“Doctor Destiny. Quite a mind you have here.”

“We’re in my head?”

“Or are we?”

“G _ et the hell out. _ ”

“You don’t let people in. I don’t blame you. It’s a bit seedy with the dead parents everywhere.”

“What’s the point of this?”

“Who doesn’t want to get in the heads of the Justice League? There’s some valuable information up here, don’t you think, Bruce?”

Bruce scowled.

“There’s lots I could sell… or I could just use to kill you myself.”

“I’d like to see you try. How is Crane involved with this?”

“I liberated some of his fear toxin.”

“You stole it.”

“And gave it an upgrade. I usually have to wait for someone to fall asleep to know their worst fears. Now, waking nightmares! That’s so much better don’t you think? Crane wasn’t able to realize its potential. But I did.”

“How is it different from regular fear toxin?”

“Crane’s nightmares are imaginary… but  _ this  _ is  _ real _ .”

Doctor Destiny’s cloak billowed and shredded. It blocked out the sky. Bruce felt like he was slipping.

He woke up with a start. Turns out he actually did hit his head judging by how much it hurt.

_ He knocked me out to get in my head. Great. _

The emergency lights were still flashing red in the hallway. He was on the floor directly under the hallway he had been in with Clark.

_ Clark! I have to find him! _

Bruce didn’t have to look far. He turned the corner and Clark was there running towards him. His face lit up when they locked eyes.

“Are you ok? My xray vision still isn’t working. I couldn’t see you.”

“Yes. I’m fine. We need to find the others.”

“Bruce,” Clark cupped Bruce’s face. “I don’t know what I would do if anythi-”

A gunshot. Clark’s eyes went wide. He fell to the floor.

_ This isn’t real. _

Clark didn’t move. Red seeped onto the tile. 

_ This can’t be real. _

The pussing wound on the back of Clark’s head glowed green.

_ But what if it is?  _

“Oopsy! Did I do that?” Joker’s giggles turned into maniacal laughter when Bruce looked at him.

Bruce’s blood ran cold and he started to shake.

_ This can’t be real. This can’t be real. _

“The LOOK on your FACE!” Joker wheezed with laughter. He doubled over and the gun dropped to the floor. “Oh, Lexy, this was worth every moment of having to stand you!”

“You can’t be here. You’re in Arkham.” Bruce was doing his best to keep his breathing even.

“I know, it’s too good to be true isn’t it? Us  _ reunited _ so soon? That’s all thanks to Skeletor breaking me out!”  _ Doctor Destiny? _ “He didn’t have to look into that thick head of yours to know my  _ effect _ on you. And best of all, with Superfreak out of the picture, I reclaim the title of Batman’s best friend!”

_ No. Nonono. _

“This is _ not real.” _

“Oh, you think you’re dreaming, sweetheart?” Joker approached him. “I’ve gotta pinch myself whenever I’m with you too!  _ You  _ might wake up after this, but  _ lover boy  _ sure won’t.” Joker kicked Clark in the back of the head with a sickening crack. Blood splattered the hallway and Bruce.

Bruce lunged at Joker, slamming him into the wall. Joker was solid and rumbling with laughter.

_ Real. That feels real. _

“Batsy! You’re shaking! I’m excited to see you too!”

“ _ This. Is NOT. REAL.”  _ Bruce shook him, growling.

“Still think you’re dreaming? Want me to pinch you?” Joker’s eyes flared.

The switchblade sunk into Bruce’s side before he could move to stop it.

_ That. Definitely. Feels real. _

“Does that help clear things up, darling?” Joker leaned into Bruce’s face and twisted the knife.

Bruce growled and ripped Joker’s hand off the handle. Bruce grabbed him by the neck and shoved him back. Joker just laughed as his head smacked against the wall. Green hair rubbed against the fresh blood splatter. Bruce’s heart leapt to his throat.

_ If this is real-nononononononono. _

Joker’s laughter bubbled against Bruce’s hand. 

“Yes, harder, Batsy!” Joker croaked through his strangled laughter.

Bruce yelled and squeezed with both his hands. He just wanted him gone. Wanted the laughter to stop. Wanted Clark back. Bruce yelled as the panicked tears pricked at his eyes. He squeezed Joker’s throat harder and lifted him off the ground entirely. Joker squeaked and cackled harder.

_ Idiot, you let your guard down and now Clark is- FUCK. _

Bruce’s grip shook as he squeezed. His eyes closed and the tears came. Joker’s laugh grew ragged. Until he stopped. His body went still. Bruce startled and dropped him. Joker fell to the floor, a final wheeze leaving his body. A horrifying smile was plastered to his face. He didn’t move.

_ Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. _

The whole world tilted and Bruce was nearly sick.

_ That doesn’t get Clark back, you idiot. Barewristed monster. Idiot. Idiot. IDIOT. _

He stumbled over to Clark’s body. There was a small smile fixed on Clark’s face. Just like Bruce’s mother reaching out to him. Bruce fell to his knees and pulled Clark into his lap. The knife in his side pinched and cut deeper. His whole body trembled as the tears bubbled out. The crushing weight on his heart constricted and wouldn’t let go. Bruce felt small and dense. A lone leaf in the height of a storm. Ripped from the branch. Falling in a goddamn gutter somewhere.

_ Stop feeling sorry for yourself, this is your own damn fault. _

Bruce pulled Clark closer, feeling the dead weight of him. He thread his fingers through his hair only to be met with warm wet blood and viscera. Bruce shuddered.

_ You never deserved him. _

* * *

 

Alone. Thin and frail. Green clouds of gas emanate from the red hot center that was once a planet. Krypton. Scattered into chunks of green rock floating outward to the rest of the universe. Clark is just another piece of the wreckage. Floating aimlessly. The cold expanse of everything wraps around him. He is alone. He will always be alone.

_ No. _

Clark is alone. He will always be alone.

_ That’s not true. _

What evidence do you have to the contrary? Your people have been exterminated by their own foolishness. You will never _ belong  _ on Earth. You don’t fit. Everyone leaves you. You are alone. You will always be alone.

_ I am  _ not  _ alone. _

Clark blinks and the world is dark. But warm. He wakes up by Bruce’s side. Gold morning light seeps in through the curtains. Bruce is already awake. His hair is messy against the pillow. His eyes are still drenched in sleep. His smile is lazy. His hand cards through Clark’s hair. Clark shuffles closer and wraps his arm around Bruce. Their legs slot together. Clark isn’t alone. He doesn’t have to be alone.

* * *

 

Clark woke up to a firm hand on his shoulder. Martian Manhunter crouched beside him.

“Sorry to wake you.” If the alien could blush, Clark imagined he would have been. “I am glad you broke the nightmare by yourself.”

Clark got up, groggily. They were in the hallway he had seen the skeletal figure with Bruce.

“What did I miss?”

“The man attacking us was John Dee, a scientist going by Doctor Destiny. He was able to enter some of our minds and found some rather… critical information. I removed those memories from him, but also gained them in the process. I apologize for that.”

Clark suspected J’onn already had a pretty good idea of what was happening between him and Bruce before this happened. They weren’t exactly being subtle with their feelings today. It was a bit embarrassing in its current state, but Clark wasn’t trying to hide anything.

“It’s alright. I trust you.”

“Thank you. Dee is being taken to the same facility as Starro. Green Lantern and other members of the Corps are escorting him there now. The fear toxin is being flushed out of the vents as we speak.”

“Good. Where is everyone else?”

“Most everyone was able to break out of their nightmares by themselves and are back in the meeting room. I unfortunately had to help Hawkgirl more intimately. She is recovering now.”

“And Batman?”

“Yes… He is still asleep. I believe it would be best if you were the one to wake him.”

“Oh… We aren’t on the best of terms right now. I’m not sure-”

“I insist.”

J’onn laid a hand on Clark’s shoulder and phased them through the floor.

Bruce was curled in on his side. Trembling. Teeth clenched. The sight opened a wound in Clark’s chest.

“The nightmare is now perpetuated by his own mind, not the influence of Dee or toxin. He can be woken up freely. I believe you know what to do.”

“Yes... I do.”

“I will give you your privacy.” J’onn floated back through the ceiling.

Clark sighed. Whatever Bruce was dreaming, it was worse than those times at the manor.

_ What are you so afraid of? _

Thinking about their earlier argument stung. It wasn’t over yet. Clark crouched down and rubbed Bruce’s arm.

“It’s ok, Bruce. I’m here.” Clark whispered.

Bruce woke with a start, breathing heavy.

“Clark? Clark!” Bruce jumped up and Clark yelped, falling backwards. Bruce grabbed his face and ran his hand across the back of Clark’s head. “You’re ok!”

“I-yes I’m ok.”  _ What the hell? _ “It was a dream.”

“A dream. Right.” Bruce evened his breathing but then tensed immediately. “How do I know I’m awake now?”

“Want me to pinch you?” Clark’s laugh stopped short when Bruce’s face paled. “Are you ok?”

Bruce scrambled away from him and stood up. He scrolled through his wrist display. Whatever it was he saw calmed him at least slightly.

“I’m fine.” Bruce wiped a hand down his face and exhaled heavily.

“I dreamt about the death of Krypton.” Clark sat up and Bruce turned to him.

“Was it a memory?”

“No. I wasn't like that. It was all broken pieces of Krypton hurtling through space. And I was there. And I was alone. And I felt like I was always going to be that way.”

“And then you woke up?”

“No. I realized I wasn’t alone. It was just a nightmare.”

Bruce grunted and crossed his arms.

_ And what was your nightmare, Bruce? _

Clark waited for Bruce to say something, anything.

After much deliberation, Bruce spoke.

“Are we done here?”

Clark could already feel his heart ache. He cleared his throat.

“Are  _ we  _ done?”

Bruce’s heart rate spiked up. Clark just sat there, letting Bruce make the choice.

“...Yes.”

It hurt. But Clark couldn’t fall apart now, not in front of Bruce.

“Ok.” Clark got to his feet. “I’ll see you next meeting then.” He tried to keep it together, but he knew Bruce could see through it. “Take care of yourself…”

Bruce nodded. It took everything Clark had to smile when he left. He didn’t understand Bruce’s decision. But he could respect it. Even if it did tear him up inside. 

As soon as he hit the open air the tears came.

_ Dammit, Bruce. _

* * *

 

Bruce restrained his emotions long enough to get the jet into the air. After that all he could do was thank himself for having autopilot.

_ Why the hell does it hurt so bad this time? Harvey, Selina… they don’t compare at all to this. _

Bruce clamped his eyes closed. All he saw was Joker’s dead smile. Clark’s blood and his heavy corpse. Clark’s watering eyes when he turned to leave. He could see the cracks in the dam.

_ He isn’t your soulmate. Get over it. _

Bruce’s grip steadied on the controls.

_ Focus. _

His breathing evened and Bruce went numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I ever mention that this fic has a happy ending? Cuz it does, believe it or not.


	15. Oh Right, You're Never Happy

Bruce’s bed felt too big. So he didn’t sleep in it. He slept on the cot in the Batcave. He trained in the Batcave. He ate the little meals he did in the Batcave. Bruce was a man driven by obsession on a _good_ day. On bad days like these he could be mistaken for a machine.

Bruce Wayne left on his private jet to Tahiti. Batman came back to Gotham within the hour. He patrolled until the sun came up. He crashed on the cot. Ate around noon while scrolling through the police reports on the Batcomputer. Then he would be back out in the cowl as soon as the sun set. There was no time to think about anything else. In that way, it was peaceful. A break from being Bruce Wayne. He was just an idea. Batman.

For many they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Not for Bruce. It just gave his heart time to callus over. For the walls to get cemented back into place. He was great at adapting. And that included adapting to not having Clark. All he had to do was sink into his routine and it was as if the last few months had never happened. It hurt to feel. So instead, Bruce felt nothing.

* * *

 

Clark’s bed felt too big. But he slept in it. It wasn’t like he had much choice. He couldn’t help but feel there was someone missing beside him. Why did he even think about Bruce in his bed? Bruce had never even _been_ in his bed.

Why would Bruce want to come over to his little apartment anyway? It wasn’t anything special and… Bruce couldn’t control it.

That was the problem wasn’t it? Bruce needed to _control_ everything. He couldn’t control Clark or how villains would try to tear them apart. And that scared him away. Right? No, Bruce faced uncertainty every day. That couldn’t explain all of it.

So it had to be because Clark wasn’t his soulmate. That was fair. It was the reason why everyone else left him. Could Clark blame him for that? Believing in some kind of higher power that assigns you a perfect match? It always seemed too good to be true, even before Clark found out he would never have one. Bruce really didn’t seem like the kind of guy to put faith in that. Something decided by someone who wasn’t him... Maybe it was just easier to put that _one_ decision out of his hands. He already blamed himself for so much. His love life was maybe just the only thing he didn’t want to be held responsible for.

_I should just borrow Diana’s rope… At least then I’d know._

But no. Clark respected Bruce too much to ever do that.

He’d get over this eventually. Since they at least had a conversation, maybe the next Justice League meeting wouldn’t be as much of a shit show. The safety of the world was obviously more important than… their relationship drama. But for now it just… sucked. And it would suck for awhile.

Clark pondered all of this over his leftover Chinese takeout. He wasn’t hungry anymore. His mind wandered.

Fourteen floors down, the mailman was putting an envelope in Clark’s mailbox. Something bigger and fancier than any bill he usually got. The writing on it was impeccably presented. And the return address was, of course, Wayne Manor.

_Bruce, what the hell?_

 

* * *

 

“Bruce this is too much.” Clark drops his bag on the bed to look out at the water.

The patio attached to the bedroom leads directly to the ocean. Bruce can’t take his eyes off the clothes Clark is wearing. Clark always wore clothes that were loose and second hand, but today the t-shirt fit him just right.

“Wait till you see where we’re eating tonight.” Bruce sits down on the bed. “You deserve it, Clark.”

Clark turns back to him with a breathy sigh. His hand trails through Bruce’s hair.

”I love you.”

Bruce hums and Clark bends down to kiss him. Clark picks Bruce up by his thighs and tosses him farther onto the bed, straddling him. Bruce laughs with him. He runs his hands across Clark’s strong back as they kiss.

Bruce needs to tell him. _Tell him._

Bruce breaks away from Clark’s mouth, breath heavy.

“Clark, I-”

* * *

 

The alarm woke Bruce with a start. He could still feel the ghost of Clark around him. His tongue against his. Bruce groaned and rubbed his eyes. He had been trying to avoid REM sleep to bypass the nightmares. _This_ was almost worse. It chipped at the shell around his heart. Left it leaking. Needed a distraction.

Bruce trudged over to the desk. There was a meal Alfred had left going cold. Bruce picked at it while he scrolled through the reports on the computer. Gotham looked quiet tonight.

Bruce picked the sleep out of his eyes and went to his suit anyway. He would just patrol until something happened.

* * *

 

An hour later and nothing. Bruce stood on a gargoyle overlooking the city. The air was still. Even the traffic was running smoothly tonight. It made Bruce’s skin crawl.

_No. This is good. This is how it should be._

Bruce was coiled. All of his pent up tension was festering. Everything zeroed in on a familiar silhouette crawling out the window of the penthouse across the street. As soon as he saw her, Bruce was in the air. Selina. Catwoman. He hadn’t seen her in months.

He kept his distance, eventually trailing her to a rundown apartment building. She changed locations frequently, but it was always some place… modest. She barely had time to put the glimmering necklace down before Bruce climbed through the window.

“Batman! Fancy seeing you here! I thought Bruce Wayne was on vacation.” Selina’s masked her surprise by slinking into his space. “Should I slip into something more comfortable?”

  
“We’re done with that. You know why I’m here.” Bruce pointed to the necklace on the nightstand. 

“Oh, that?” Selina pulled the hood off her suit and tussled her short hair back into shape. “Don’t you have anything better to do than stop a little Robin Hooding?”

“Would you be the less fortunate?”

“Do you see me living in a mansion?”

Bruce frowned at her.

“Alright, I give. It’s not for me. Rich bitch did some under the table excavating in Egypt. Kept the findings for himself. That piece belongs in a museum and that’s exactly where I’m going to be anonymously donating it. You happy?”

Bruce sighed.

“Oh right, you’re never happy. How’ve you been?”

“Fine.”

“Right. You have those Justice Friends of yours now, yeah?”

Bruce grunted.

“How’s Wonder Woman in the sack?”

 _Of course this is where the conversation goes._

“I wouldn’t know.” _Why don’t you find out yourself, Selina._ “I’m focusing on my work.” 

“Of course. That’s why you’re here shooting the shit with me.” Selina prodded. “You going to arrest me or not?”

“No.”

“Good. I’m not in the mood for a fight. What are you doing for fun nowadays?”

“I don’t have fun.”

“Oh?” Selina smirked. “Then what do you have with Superman?”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw the two of you on the roof of that diner months ago. Was going to drop by but you looked... involved. Didn’t want to interrupt.”

Bruce sighed, there was little point in lying. He had trusted her with his identity, after all. This wasn’t that big a deal in comparison. He was nowhere near ashamed of his relationship with Clark either. Selina waited patiently, knowing she had cornered him.

“We are… no longer involved.”

“Aw, that’s a shame. You two looked cute together. You have that whole opposites attract thing going on.” Selina sprawled out on the pull out sofa, stretching across the mismatched pillows and blankets. “He seemed like a keeper. So what was the problem? You two didn’t match? No happily ever after yet for poor Bwuce Wayne?”

When they had been seeing each other, Bruce had always used the soulmate excuse to keep his distance emotionally. Selina had always thought it was childish. She hated the whole premise of soulmates. So much so that she had gotten a tattoo to cover her mark. A thick black box that would prevent her or any potential partner from seeing it.

“No. We didn’t.”

“You’re such a buzzkill with that stuff, Bruce.” Selina sighed. “Not everything has to be perfectly to plan, you know.”

“I prefer when it is.”

“You never liked surprises.”

“I never liked _your idea_ of a surprise.” 

“I _do_ like to make an entrance. _That_ we have in common.” 

A short haired cat missing an eye bumped its head against Bruce’s calf.

“It’s getting late.” Bruce eyed the cat as it proceeded to walk around his legs.

“You sure you don’t want to crash here?”

“Positive.” Bruce was already making his escape.

“Close the window behind you. Superman isn’t here to get my cats back if you let them out.”

Bruce squinted at her.

“How long were you spying on us?”

“Long enough. Now, get out of here.” Selina smiled and Bruce closed the window behind him with a grumble.

* * *

 

The storm rocks the boat. Bruce clings to the wheel as the wind whips at him. Thunder cracks. Selina rappels down the mast. The brine of a wave cascades over them.

The ship floats in the air for a moment, then crashes back to the sea. Bruce loses his grip and tumbles into the railing. He looks between the worn wooden rods. Green. A sickly green glow wrapped around a shape down in the water. The shape of a man.

Clark! Bruce’s yell is without sound. There is only the howl of the wind and the din of the waves.

Bruce gets up and ropes wrap around his legs. Coiling like snakes. Dragging him back to the wheel. He cuts them down with his blade and vaults over the railing.

He hits the water with a sick thud. Everything has stopped. The sound of the storm replaced by silence. Bruce forces his way through the water like digging through tar. The shape that is Clark is unmoving, mouth bubbling.

As Bruce digs, the tar-like water fills in behind him. Until he is stuck in place. Hand reaching down. Bruce feels he will be stuck there forever. Unmoving. Unbreathing.

Everything starts again. The current ragdolls Bruce down. Past Clark. Deeper and deeper. It is black. The green glow is just a memory. It fades.

* * *

 

The lights blared on in the Batcave and Bruce startled awake. Alfred hurried over to him.

“Wha-what is it?”

“Master Dick has not come back from patrol.”

Bruce shot up and searched for the time. 6am.

“I take it he’s not answering?”

“Correct.”

_Shit._

Bruce stumbled over to the computer. His body was still groggy with sleep, but his mind was racing.

He activated the tracking function in Nightwing’s suit. The map zoomed and zeroed in with a blinking red dot.

“He’s… here?” Alfred gawked. “I haven’t seen any sign of him.”

“This just means his _suit_ is here. Unless he took out the tracker...” Bruce grabbed his phone and set it to track the signal. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Alfred stayed in the cave in case Dick came in that way. Bruce followed the signal up to the second floor. He padded along the corridors in just the sweat pants he slept in. The trail ended in Dick’s room, the suit in a box under the bed.

_Great hiding spot, Dick. Obviously didn’t go on patrol._

Bruce checked around the room. Dick’s desk was piled high with books, notes, all school related. Nothing personal. A bottle of cologne was on the nightstand. New. The packaging still nearby. Next to that was his phone charger.

_Forget to bring it to your sleepover?_

Bruce heard the window creak open and crossed his arms.

“Guess I’m busted, huh?” Dick closed the window behind him sheepishly. His hair was messy and he was obviously wearing the same clothes from when he left. “You’ve been in the cave so much I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Alfred noticed. You had him worried not picking up his calls.”

“OH, shit, sorry. I forgot-”

“Your charger. I know. Where were you?”

“Do I really have to say it?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him.

“I was on a date… and then I stayed at his place.” Dick avoided eye contact.

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“More sensible than bringing him here.”

“You brought Clark here.”

“Clark is different. And he hasn’t been back.”

“You don’t even know- why is that?”

“Why is what?”

“Why hasn’t Clark been back?”

“Don’t turn this on me.”

“What, am I in trouble? You going to take my phone away?”

“That wouldn’t help you _answer it when Alfred calls.”_

“I told you. It was dead.”

“ _You_ could have been too.”

“But I’m not. I’m fine.” Dick deflated a little. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Yes. You will.” Bruce sighed. “And keep your suit somewhere safer.”

“Ok.”

Bruce started to walk away.

“Bruce,” Dick cleared his throat. “Are _you_ ok?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Bruce paused.

“You’ve been… more distant than usual.”

“I’ve been keeping busy.”

“With what? Joker’s in the asylum. No other villains have big plots going on. But you’re closed off like the world is going to end and you’re the only one working on stopping it.” Dick waited for a response, but Bruce couldn’t think of one. “Does it have to do with Clark?”

“Not everything has to do with Clark.”

“I’m right, though.” Dick sighed. “I’m sorry about what I said. About… you leading him on.”

“Don’t be sorry. You were right.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It wasn’t right for me to say that. If you make each other happy, then you make each other happy.”

_What's brought this change of heart on?_

“Does the boy you were with last night make you happy?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll let you know if he does.” Dick squirmed. “I just… It’s nicer around here when you’re not all doom and gloom.”

“Coffee will help with that. Haven’t had any yet since I’ve been dealing with _this.”_ Bruce narrowed his eyes. “What’s this _boy’s name?_ How did you meet? _”_

 _“Bruuuce.”_ Dick whined and hunched past Bruce to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“You’re not the only one you needs coffee.”

Bruce smirked and followed after him. Dick wasn’t off the hook yet. Alfred was going to have some choice words for him.

 _You’re a good kid, Dick. Just not as careful as you should be._

* * *

 

Shot. Clark. Red. Laugh.

* * *

 

_Goddammit._

Bruce surges off of the cot.

_Sick of this shit._

He stormed over to the training room, all pent up energy and exposed nerves. Needed to take it out on something and the punching bag was the only thing available at five in the morning.

The chain rattled and strained with each hit Bruce landed on the bag. No matter how much he punched, swore, and sweat he felt the same.

Clark’s smile. Clark’s blood. Clark’s hand in his hair.

“Master Bruce?”

“ _WHAT.”_ Bruce didn’t take his focus off the worn red leather for even a second.

“I see you’re rather chipper this morning.”

Bruce huffed between punches.

“Mr. Kent hasn’t called in awhile.”

_Good._

For some reason this information tightened the knot in Bruce’s throat.

“Alfred. Is there an _important_ reason you’re here?”

“Something bothering you, sir?”

“I just want to be alone.”

“Good thing we’re hosting that benefit tonight, then.”

 _Maybe_ you _are._

“Bruce Wayne is in Tahiti.”

“ _Bruce Wayne_ will be arriving back in Gotham this afternoon.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“I’ve already informed the press.”

Bruce’s punch faltered midway through his swing. He finally faced Alfred.

" _Why?”_

“You’ve wallowed in your solitude long enough.” Alfred’s tone was severe. “Frankly, I’ve grown tired of it.”

They glared at each other until Bruce finally huffed and looked away.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a staff to organize.” Alfred turned and glided out of the room. “Your outfit for your return on the helicopter is already laid out for you, Master Bruce.”

Bruce gave the punching bag a final hit and stormed off to the shower.

_Perfect. Just. Perfect._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so close to the end now!! And this fic is so much longer than I thought it would be!! As always, I love and appreciate all the comments and support you guys leave and hopefully next chapter won't take as long for me to post :))


	16. Don't Be Ridiculous

“Hey, Smallville.”

Clark was just shutting down his computer for the day when Lois leaned against his cubicle wall. They were the last ones still working late.

“Lois! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh stop, just been meaning to catch up. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been doing well. Keeping busy. How about you?”

“Same old, same old. Say, Clark, you have plans for tonight?”

“Any other night I’d take you up on that, Lois. But…” Clark tried to think of the best way to phrase it without having to explain _everything._ “I got invited to a dinner party.”

“For work?”

 _It’s probably going to_ f eel _like work._

“No. Actually it’s being hosted by a, uh, friend.”

“A friend? What friend? Do I know them?”

“No.” _Lie. She can always tell when you’re lying._ “We met through work about eight months ago.”

_Technically the truth._

“You said you ‘got invited.’ Haven’t decided on if you’re going yet?”

“I’m planning on going, but… it’s complicated.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Actually… Are you free right now?”

“For you, Clark? Of course.” Lois grabbed the empty chair at the next desk and brought it over to him. She sat down, all ears.

“This friend… we were actually seeing each other for a couple months.”

“Ah, _that_ kind of complicated.”

“Yes. So he broke it off a month ago and then out of nowhere I get this invite.”

“But did you-?” Lois pointed at her wrist.

“We didn’t, but… I-I’m tired of waiting. You know? I thought he was too.”

Lois nodded sagely.

“So you’re hoping… this invite means he wants to get back together.”

“Yes. But he better have a darn good apology or I’m out of there.”

“Good. It’s decided then.” Lois got up. “I’m helping you get dressed.”

It had been almost five years since Lois had an on and off again fling with Superman. Clark fell hard and fast. He was getting up the courage to tell her his identity when she decided to break it off. Clark was grateful for that timing now. They could still be coworkers and friends without that awkwardness between them. Of course it took awhile for Clark to recover, but, he had. And now Lois was still one of his best friends.

“I can’t believe you still walk to work.” Lois had insisted on driving Clark back to his apartment.

“It keeps me young.”

“Is that your secret?”

Clark chuckled and unlocked his door. Lois strode inside, making a beeline for his closet. She pursed her lips at the selection she found.

“What’s the dress code for this thing?”

“It’s kind of formal…”

“Ech, _formal?_ Good thing I’m here then. Is it too late to go shopping?”

“My clothes aren’t _that_ bad.”

Lois gave him a look before going back to her search.

“Oh, wait!” Lois pulled a pressed shirt out and checked both sides of it. “ _This_ has potential.”

Of course it was the button up Bruce sent him after ruining his that night at the gala. Clark hadn’t worn it outside of his apartment yet. It was the nicest shirt Clark owned and the first one that actually fit him right. Bruce would be able to tell from a mile away. Clark felt self-conscious at the choice, but it may win him some points in Bruce’s favor.

Lois quickly found pants and a jacket to compliment it. Clark really only owned two pairs of shoes so there wasn’t much she could do for him with that. He got changed and stepped back into the bedroom to get Lois’s judgement. She looked him over, tapping her chin.

“You know you hunch, right? Stand up straighter!” Lois punched him in the arm and he fixed his posture marginally. “Have you ever thought about getting contacts?”

“I don’t have the eyes for ‘em. Flinch every time. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to recognize me without these.” Clark pushed his glasses further up his nose.

Lois laughed and shook her head.

“So, if this goes well tonight, do I get to know who this mysterious bachelor is?”

“We’ll see. He’s kind of a private guy.” _Understatement of the century._

“A formal dinner party hosted by some probably rich recluse… what have you gotten yourself into, Smallville?”

Clark just smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

“Well, I hope this works out for you. Good luck, Clark.”

“Thanks, Lois. I owe you one.”

“Add it to the list.” Lois smoothed down the lapel on Clark’s jacket. “Now, go show that jerk what he’s missing.”

* * *

 

_This is torture._

Bruce’s fake smile was plastered on his face while he greeted, as Selina would say, the “rich bitches” of Gotham. Usually it wouldn’t be as much of a slog, but Bruce was just not in the damn mood for it.

The cause was at least something Bruce wholeheartedly supported. All the proceeds would go towards combating the homeless youth problem in Gotham. Those on the street tended to get scooped up by villains looking to indoctrinate the vulnerable. Bruce held on to that thought to keep him going. This wasn’t about him.

Bruce made his way through the crowd, shaking hands, making pleasantries, all the while thinking of an excuse to slip away once he gave everyone a moment to chat with him.

_‘I have business to attend to.’ No... Jet lag. That could work._

Bruce scanned over the party. He stopped cold at Clark walking into the parlor.

_What the hell._

Bruce’s mouth went dry. Clark looked good. No. He looked great.

_That’s the shirt I gave him._

Clark shyly stepped out of people’s way while he glanced around. His whole face lit up when Dick walked over to him. They were talking. Getting along. Clark laughed with his whole body and Bruce felt his heart pound.

_Something’s wrong._

“Excuse me.” Bruce ducked away from the group of guests trying to talk to him.

Bruce’s heart rate continued to skyrocket as he fled the party to the Batcave.

 _Why is_ he _here?_

Bruce’s breathing came short.

_A panic attack? What the hell is wrong with me?_

Bruce was about ready to perform a blood test or a vitals analysis, something, anything to explain this until he heard the elevator open up.

“Master Bruce, why are you hiding down here?”

“I may have been poisoned.”

“ _Poisoned,_ sir?”

“I’m the only one who drinks the ginger ale. Someone may have found out. Poisoned it.”

“What, pray tell, are the symptoms of your alleged poisoning?”

“Rapid heartbeat, shortness of breath-”

“Did these symptoms occur before or after Mr. Kent arrived?” Alfred deadpanned.

“What are you implying?”

“Master Bruce… have you ever stopped to consider you might be… in love?”

_In LOVE?_

Bruce nearly short circuited.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m hardly being _‘ridiculous.’_ Is it really that absurd that you may have found someone you could love?”

“I take some reporter out to dinner _once_ and everyone thinks I’ve _fallen in love_?”

“Don’t patronize me, Bruce. I know he’s Superman. You’ve been seeing him for months.”

_Shit._

“It’s convenient.”

_“Sir.”_

“He’s here because of you, isn’t he?”

“Yes. I invited him.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“That man up there, God help him, _cares_ about you. And I, better than anyone, know how _frustrating_ that can be.”

“He’s not my _soulmate,_ Alfred.”

Alfred stood straighter.

“Master Bruce, how long were you planning to use that as a deflection? Your whole life? I _am_ aware you _don’t have one.”_

Bruce’s blood turned to ice.

“How long have you known?”

“Ever since the first night you donned the cowl.”

_I was out cold that night._

“Oh.”

_Ten years?_

“Forgive me for not telling you this sooner. I had hoped you would figure it out in your own time. There are so many people on this Earth that die miserable because they were waiting on someone who was _never coming._ You at least, _know that._ So what? You don’t have a soulmate? You don’t _have_ to be alone. You can choose! It’s not _unheard_ of!”

Bruce understood this, but the thought cut at him. Of course he had thought about it. It was all he _could_ think about some nights, but it always came back to the same conclusion.

“Who would choose _me_?” The words fell out, small and broken.

Alfred’s frustration came to a halt. Bruce looked wrecked and all Alfred could see was an eight year old boy, drenched in rain, his own mother’s blood stained on the knees of his suit.

“Sir, what are you talking about?”

Bruce turned back to the computer.

“It’s nothing.”

“It is so apparently _not ‘nothing.’”_ Alfred took tentative steps forward. “Have I failed you so much you think so little of yourself?”

“You could never fail me, Alfred.”

“You worry me constantly, you’re stubborn, you don’t know when to quit... and I am so proud of you. You’ve saved countless lives through your work, as Batman and as Bruce Wayne. You’ve raised Dick into a talented and confident young man. Anyone would be lucky to have you… if you would just _let one of them in_ . Yes, you are complicated and _dramatic_ and brash, but do you really think that’s more than _Superman_ can handle?”

Bruce crossed his arms.

“If the man wasn’t interested in you, why would he keep calling for weeks with no answer? Why would he be here now after you’ve attempted to keep him out for so long?”

_Clark, you’re too good for me. I’ve kept you waiting so long._

Bruce’s chest ached.

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“If we didn’t try simply because there was a _chance_ of failure, we would never do _anything.”_

 _“_ It doesn’t feel like just a _chance._ This damn bare wrist... it feels like the universe is against me.”

“If the universe is against you, _you fight back._ That’s what you’ve always done. Why is now any different?”

_If I could punch whatever force made soulmates, you can bet I’d have done it years ago._

“...You’re right.” Bruce sighed.

“Of course I am. Now, don’t let that man leave upset. He’s been waiting long enough.”

Bruce nodded and soldiered forth in a daze. He had no idea what he was going to say. He needed time to think. To plan. But he didn’t _have_ time. Clark was here now and Bruce had the feeling this was his last chance to fix what he broke between them. He was still grappling with the idea that he could love Clark. That he was capable. It would certainly… explain some things. But love was never a concept Bruce thought he would be a part of.

In the few minutes it took to find Clark again, Bruce’s head was swimming. _Was_ he in love with Clark? That was something he couldn’t be certain of. There was no way to measure it, confirm it. It was just a feeling and Bruce was never great with those. Bruce had already done enough harm and if he told him _that_ falsely… he couldn’t forgive himself. So, what was he supposed to say when he caught up to Clark? Clark and his bright warm eyes. His smile Bruce felt drawn to. Like Clark had a gravitational pull.

Bruce was on autopilot as he walked forward. He just needed Clark to stay. That was all he was certain of.

Clark tensed when he saw Bruce approaching. Dick noticed what was happening and made his retreat with a hurried: “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Clark shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to seem casual.

“Bruce, there you are. Dick and I were wondering where you were.”

“I was tied up.” Bruce swallowed. “How have you been?”

_What a stupid question. How do you think he’s been?_

“...I’ve been better... How about you?”

“Fine.” _Idiot._

Bruce was sweating under the pressure. He didn’t know how to do this. It was so much easier when it was just sex.

“Bruce…” Clark’s eyes were hard. “ _You_ didn’t invite me, did you?”

“No. That was… Alfred’s idea.”

Clark sighed out of his nose and went to turn away.

_NO!_

Bruce grabbed Clark’s arm to stop him.

“ _What, Bruce?_ It’s obvious you don’t want me here.”

_“Clark…” I need you. Don’t go._

But the words didn’t come out.

Clark searched Bruce’s face and scoffed, pulling out of his tight grasp.

 _“I shouldn’t have come here.”_ Clark seethed and stormed out the door.

Bruce was stuck in place, choking on the heart caught in his throat.

_Idiot. This is what happens to the people who love you. You push them away. You always push them away._

* * *

 

Clark’s eyes pricked with barely contained tears.

_Of course it was too good to be true. I’m such an idiot._

Clark snuck around the side of the house to the walled off garden overlooking Gotham. He just wanted to get away. And he wasn't going to wait for a cab. He didn’t want to have to look at or talk to anyone. He’d just keep walking until he was sure he was alone. Then, he could just fly himself home and try and recover from getting his hopes up _again._

The garden was dark. The cobblestone path Clark walked was lined with small lights. Beyond those were rose bushes and carefully trimmed hedges. Clark’s chest heaved and he wiped at his eyes. He didn’t notice the rustling in the bush beside him. He didn’t notice the dull red glow. He didn’t notice any of it until it was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END IS NIGH! I've had this stuff planned for months and I'm so excited for you guys to read the next chapter!! As always, I love all the feedback and support you guys have given me :') xoxoxo


	17. Choice is a Burden

_Now you’re just standing here like an idiot._

Bruce knew he should move, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the place Clark used to be.

“Nice going, Pops.” Dick, of course, had watched the whole disaster unfurl from a safe distance.

“ _Dick.”_ Bruce’s voice was a warning.

“I know it’s ‘ _none of my business,_ ’” Dick crossed his arms. “But you can really be barewristed sometimes.”

If Bruce was able to shoot lasers out of his eyes, Dick would have been cut in half. As it was, Dick flinched away.

“Sorry…” Dick made a hasty retreat, leaving Bruce to feel like an open wound.

_‘Don’t let that man leave upset.’ This isn’t how this ends._

Bruce surged forward, following the path Clark would have most likely gone. He wasn’t standing by the cars to wait for a cab. He wouldn’t. He’d be too upset for that. Wouldn’t want to hang around. Would want to fly away. Would have to go somewhere private.

Bruce turned towards the garden. There was a figure not too far away, his back to him.

“Clark!”

Bruce ran across the yard. Clark never turned to face him as he approached. Bruce slowed, apprehensive.

“Clark?” He placed his hand on Clark’s shoulder.

Clark’s hand clamped down on his. Bruce didn’t have time to react as he was thrown a couple dozen feet backwards. He landed upside down in a bush, branches snapped and prodding under his weight. He groaned and blinked against the pain. Clark’s dark silhouette danced in his double vision. He was hunched with a twisted smile. A red glow came from his popped open shirt. All at once it came into focus. A red eye in the middle of five purple limbs clamped down on Clark’s chest.

Bruce scrambled to get up and out of the way of a heat ray blast, ducking behind a low garden wall. The bush he was just in went up in flames. He pressed down on the communicator on his wrist.

“ _Dick, get the shock gloves to the garden! CAREFUL!”_

“Copy!” Dick’s reply was blessedly quick.

Bruce peeked over the ledge and rolled out of the way of another blast.

“COME OUT COME OUT, BATMAN.” Starro’s words projected through Clark’s voice.

Bruce shuddered at how wrong it sounded. How wrong Clark looked.

There were so many starros after that fight it wasn’t hard to imagine how one could have escaped them. But it had escaped their detection for _how many months now?_

“WE DO NOT WANT YOU DEAD. BUT THERE ARE ALWAYS CONSEQUENCES TO OUR ACTIONS.”

Bruce stood up. There was no use hiding. X-ray vision. No use running. Super speed. But luckily for Bruce, _fighting_ Superman was something he had planned to be prepared for for _years._

Clark swayed as he walked forward. Bruce sidestepped and the two circled each other. Two wolves waiting for the opportunity to strike.

“WE HAVE PLANNED THIS FOR MONTHS, WAYNE.” Starro-Clark’s smile stretched too wide. “WATCHING AND WAITING. IT WAS ALL TOO EASY TO SEE WHO YOU BOTH WERE. IT WAS JUST A MATTER OF THE RIGHT MOMENT TO SEIZE.”

“So what’s the big plan? How are you going to control the whole world with just one of you? You’re still locked up. You can’t make more.”

Clark bent backwards with booming laughter.

“WE CONTROL THIS ONE, WE CONTROL THEM ALL.”

_He’s right. We’d all be dead if Clark had wanted it._

“BUT NOT TO FRET, WAYNE. YOU WILL LOVE IT. WE ARE HERE TO HELP.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“WE HAVE SEEN HOW YOU HUMANS HATE CHOICE. YOU STRUGGLE EVERY DAY WITH IT. YOU ARE STUCK IN PLACE. NOT ABLE TO MAKE A DECISION. WE CAN HELP YOU. WE CAN TAKE IT AWAY. CHOICE IS A BURDEN. LET US SHOULDER IT FOR YOU.”

“No thanks.”

“THEN WE WOULD LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY TO STAND IN OUR WAY.”

Bruce turned and booked it to the hedge maze.

“YES! RUN! IT WILL DO YOU NO GOOD.” Starro laughed and stalked after Bruce with a lazy pace.

_Good. He’s too cocky. Keep it up._

Bruce weaved through the maze easily, but exaggerated the labor of his breathing. He needed Starro to underestimate him. He could hear Starro plowing straight through the hedges behind him. Bruce left the maze and dashed behind a cement wall. He pressed his back flat against it, pretending to look to the side for Starro while he fiddled with his bracelet. He’d have to get the timing perfect. Then he would just need to wait for Dick to arrive.

“I CAN SEE YOU.”

As Bruce expected, the space in the wall beside him burst open. Starro forced his way through, shattering Clark’s glasses. Bruce opened the lead-lined compartment on his bracelet and tackled Starro to the ground.

“WHAT IS THIS?” Starro thrashed against him, sweating. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO US?”

“Kryptonite.”

Starro hissed and did his damnedest to get out of Bruce’s grasp. Bruce held strong, rolling them around in the dirt to keep his hold. Clark’s useless glasses fell to the side.

Bruce caught sight of Dick approaching and wrestled Starro into a choke hold. The glow of the kryptonite pulsed near his face. Starro screamed and dug his dull nails into Bruce’s arms. Dick slowed down, jaw hanging open.

“Use the gloves on it!” Bruce growled.

“You- with- _Superman?_ ” Dick’s voice was high in shock.

“ _Not now, Dick!_ ” Bruce barked.

Dick shook his head and turned the gloves on. Starro thrashed harder, kicking and elbowing Bruce underneath him.

“WE WILL BE BACK. WE WILL NOT BE TAKEN DOWN SO EASILY.”

“Oh, shut up.” Dick grabbed the starro and pulled.

The alien shrieked, arms going pin straight. It went slack and Dick held it at arm’s length.

“This is disgusting.” Dick looked down. “You ok, Bruce?”

Bruce grunted and pushed Clark’s limp body off of him.

“How about, uh, SuperClark?”

“Unconscious. He’ll be fine.” Bruce closed the compartment on his bracelet, sealing the kryptonite away.

There were red suction marks where Starro had held onto Clark’s chest. Leaves, twigs, and rubble were stuck in his hair and his jacket. Bruce let out a deep breath. The Starro crisis was averted, but Bruce was still in the woods.

“I can’t believe you’ve been fucking Superman this whole time and didn’t tell me.”

Bruce covered his face and groaned.

“Actually, I can believe it, but still.”

“I’m not talking about this now.” Bruce got up and dusted off his pants. “We need to take that alien to the cave.”

“Which one?” The corners of Dick’s mouth twitched.

Bruce rolled his eyes.

“Both.”

* * *

 

Bruce carried Clark down to the Batcave and laid him down on the cot. According to how the other Starro cases turned out, Clark would likely be asleep for a few more minutes. Bruce got a containment unit for the starro and had Dick trap it inside. He would have to get Hal to do something about it. _And_ J’onn to erase Starro’s memories of their identities. However, for the time being, that could wait.

The elevator signaled Alfred’s arrival.

“Now what exactly happened to your mother’s rose bushes?” Alfred appraised Clark’s and Bruce’s roughed up appearances.

“Had some alien trouble.” Dick pointed to the starro piled in the glass box.

“Oh dear.” Alfred leaned away from it. “That is certainly an unexpected development.”

“What now, Bruce?” Dick tossed the shock gloves onto the desk.

“Now… I need to talk to Clark.” Bruce looked to Alfred. “If you don’t think our guests will mind my absence too terribly.”

“You look a right mess, you’re not going anywhere.” Alfred’s eyes softened. “If anyone asks, they will be informed the jet lag has gotten to you. Come, Master Dick, we have guests to entertain.”

“Good luck, Bruce.” Dick shook his head. “Tch, _Superman._ You’re going to need it.”

Bruce waited till they left to roll over a chair and sit beside Clark. He passed the time by picking the debri out of Clark’s hair. There was a chunk of his glasses still tucked behind his ear. Clark stirred with a groan and Bruce straightened up in his chair.

“Bruce? Where… oh, the cave.” Clark squinted his eyes and sat up in a daze.

“What do you remember?”

Clark rubbed his head while he wracked his brain.

“How-how long have you been keeping kryptonite on you?”

“About as long as it was known it could take you down.”

“Nine years?”

“Sounds about right.”

“So, you had kryptonite in that thing this whole time.”

“Mhm.”

“I knew there was a good reason I hated it.” Clark swung his legs off the side of the cot and hunched over his knees.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine, everything considered.”

“Good.”

An awkward silence followed. Clark picked at a new hole in his pants.

“What was it like?” Bruce spoke up.

Clark frowned at him in question.

“Being controlled by it.”

“It was… like I was in a dream. I could kind of feel what I was doing, but it was distant. And trying to remember all of it now is... foggy. It’s there, but it’s like it didn’t actually happen to _me._ ”

Bruce nodded.

Clark looked out at the cave. The great hollow expanse of it that stretched above and below them.

“Bruce… Your nightmares… can you tell me about them?”

Bruce sat back and crossed his arms.

“There’s not much to tell.”

“It’s ok if you don’t want to.”

_He wants to know you. Let him._

Bruce mulled it over before finally relenting.

“Usually they play out exactly how I remember it. We’re walking away from the movie theater. A man pulls out a gun. My father steps in front of us and gets shot down. My mother next. The man rips the pearls off my mother’s neck and runs… and then I’m alone.” Bruce shifted uncomfortably. “It took hours for the police to show up. There was a pay phone down the street. I could have called them sooner. It wouldn’t have made a difference for my parents, but… I just sat there by them. Their blood on my hands, my clothes…” Bruce absently rubbed his arm. “I always wake up before the police show up.”

“...You always wake up alone.”

Bruce grunted.

“Thank you for telling me.” Clark looked away. “I’m afraid of being alone too.”

“I’m not-“

“Don’t.” Clark shut him down. “When I was fourteen and I still didn’t have a soulmark… my parents tried to blame it on me ‘being a late bloomer.’ I didn’t believe that at all. I kept asking them about it for months. I already knew kids my age who had matched. I was getting antsy. That’s when they finally told me what I was. Where I came from. I thought I was never going to belong here. But I’ve made it work. I just had to get used to it.” Clark shifted and glanced away. “Being with you though… for a while there I thought… I didn’t have to just be _used to it._ ” Clark sighed. “I care about you, Bruce. I know I’m not The One. I’m fine with that. Or I _thought_ I was fine with that. It’s not your fault, but… I thought you would be different.”

“Different how?”

“Everyone I’ve been with is always looking for _someone else_. They might be sleeping with me but they’re looking right past me. I’m just someone they met while they were waiting for their soulmate. You don’t want to get close to me because I’m not the one you’re waiting for.”

“No, I’m not.”

“ _Yes_ , you are, of course you are. I’m just a fun fuck on the side, but I’m not important. I wasn’t important when you left me in that hotel room eight years ago and I’m not important now.”

“Clark, I’m _not_ waiting for anybody-”

“Bruce, don’t bullshit me, I’ve been through this before, not just with you-”

“Clark!” Bruce’s heart was in his throat. “There _is_ no one else because I _don’t_ have a soulmate.”

“What- you what?”

“I don’t have a soulmate.”

Clark’s eyes turned sympathetic and he backed down.

“You mean… they aren’t here any more?”

“No, I mean- I never had one.” Bruce all but tore the bracelet off to show him his bare wrist.

Clark stared at it, still as stone.

“I’m _barewristed._ Do you _get it_ now?”

“ _Bruce.”_ Clark husked and Bruce shook his head.

“I’m _distant_ because I’m not _meant_ to be close to anyone. I push people away. It’s how I am. How I was born. _Defective._ I’m the villain in every children’s book. I’m-”

“ _Bruce!_ ”

“ _What?”_

“Does being _barewristed_ make _me_ some kind of monster?”

“Clark, of course not, it’s not the same. _You aren’t_ supposed to have one. _I’m broken. I-“_

“For a genius you sure can be an idiot.”

“Excuse me.”

“Why did you take a bullet for me?”

_What?_

“I _had_ to.”

“What were you thinking that made Maxima leave?”

“Clark, what does this-”

“Bruce, answer the damn question, please.”

“...how much I wanted to kiss you. Take you home. Away from her.”

“What did Doctor Destiny make you dream?”

_Tell him. Be honest._

“Joker came back to kill you. Shot you right in the back of the head and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I lost control and I… I killed Joker. And then…”

“You were alone.”

“Your blood on my hands.” Bruce nodded.

“Why did you try and stop me from leaving tonight?”

“...Because I don’t want you to leave.”

“Why don’t you want me to leave?”

“...I’m afraid you’ll never come back. Because I fucked it up for good this time.”

“I thought you wanted _this_ to be over.”

“I… thought it would be easier.”

“But it wasn’t?”

“No. It wasn’t.” Bruce scrubbed at his stinging eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Clark.”

“Thank you. It wasn’t easy for me either.” There was a smile creeping up on Clark’s face. “It’s weird. None of what you just told me sounds like someone _villainously_ barewristed.” He held his hand open to Bruce.

Bruce frowned, but handed over his arm. Clark rubbed the blank space on Bruce’s wrist. It sent a tingle up Bruce’s spine.

“Look, Bruce,” he brought their arms together and a laugh bubbled out of him. “We match.”

Bruce’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t care if it was just proof they were both unattached by fate or some kind of cosmic bond that reached across space and between species. That was the most romantic shit anyone had ever done for him. Clark _saw him_ and he didn’t think he was _broken._ He fixed him.

Something clicked for Bruce then. Something he hadn’t realized that now felt so obvious. Bruce thought not having a soulmark left him unattached. Free. But he had _never been_ free. He had been letting that bare wrist _control him_ for twenty years and he was goddamn sick of it. But he wasn’t going to let it fucking _control him_ anymore.

Bruce surged forward and locked their lips together. Clark held him closer. They wrapped around each other.

“I missed you.” Clark husked against his mouth.

Bruce answered with a harsh kiss before pulling back. Thoughts racing.

“What if Maxima hadn’t been terrible?”

“What? Why are you thinking about her?”

“What if some alien comes down here and they’re perfect. Your actual soulmate. Would you go with them?”

“If some stranger came down here and claimed to be your match would _you_ go with them?”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

Clark thread his fingers through the gray hairs at Bruce’s temple. Bruce exhaled hard.

“What if-“

“Bruce. I _want_ to _be with you.”_

_“Why?”_

“Because… you’re selfless and dedicated and it’s so _easy_ to be with you when you’re not closing yourself off. I know it’s hard and I can’t make any promises that I’m going to feel this way forever, we don’t have that guarantee... but I love you _now_ and that’s what matters. Can’t we _enjoy that?”_

Bruce felt like he was going to burst. The walls around his heart turned to rubble.

“I’m an asshole.”

“True. But you’re _usually_ an asshole for the right reasons.”

Bruce let out a small laugh. Clark kissed his smile. Bruce climbed on top of him, pushing him back down to the cot. They took their time at first. Lingering touches that grew needier. Bruce wanted more, but he was sick of this damn cot.

“Clark,” Bruce leveled a severe gaze. “I want you to take me to my bed right now and fuck me till I can’t walk straight.”

Clark let out a surprised laugh.

“What about the party, Mr.Wayne? Your adoring public?”

“Screw the party.”

“Hold on, then.”

Wind whipped around Bruce. He saw flashes of the elevator shaft, the lights in the hallway. It was like getting tossed around on a roller coaster. And then he was naked in his bed, Clark on top of him.

“Fast enough for you?”

“Mm.” Bruce cupped Clark’s hips. “I can still walk straight, Clark.”

“I can fix that.”

Bruce didn’t know to prepare himself for the most agonizingly slow prep of his life. He cursed himself for giving Clark the idea for the obvious payback those months ago.

Clark pumped his fingers at a snail’s pace, like he was savoring it. His mouth ghosted, feather light, on Bruce’s dick. Warm breath making Bruce squirm and pull at the sheets.

“ _Clark. Get on with it.”_

“Oh, _you’re_ impatient? You’ve made me wait for weeks. _This_ is nothing.” Clark said. Bruce rocked his hips towards Clark’s hot mouth, but Clark just sat up with a smile. “I’m taking as long as I want.”

Clark let the bottle of lube hit him in the head and bounce onto the sheets.

“ _Fuck. Me.”_ Bruce graveled.

Clark laughed at the Batman look of seriousness leveled on him. This coming from the man who was a writhing mess, hair askew.

“You’re cute when you’re angry.”

Bruce’s growl was cut off by a ragged moan; Clark’s fingers curling in against his prostate.

Clark kissed Bruce’s neck when he finally pulled out his fingers. Clark slung Bruce’s legs over his shoulders and eased into him. Bruce groaned and wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck.

Clark drove into him faster, harder, each thrust punctuated by the sound of Bruce’s grunts. Clark’s grip on Bruce’s hip was like a vice. Bruce hoped it would bruise.

“ _Fuck, yes yes yes-”_ Bruce’s legs started to shake with his impending release.

Clark snaked a hand in between them to pump Bruce’s cock. Bruce shuddered and tangled his hand in Clark’s hair, bringing his face down to the crook of his neck.

Bruce came in a strangled cry. His arms constricted around Clark tighter until he was spent and went lax. He huffed contentedly with the rest of Clark’s thrusts. Clark came soon after, exhaling thick by Bruce’s ear. He dropped his warm weight on Bruce. They lay in the aftermath, Bruce smoothing through Clark’s hair with gently closed eyes.

It felt different. Usually there was a sense of panic or guilt. Fear that this could be the last time. But Bruce was comfortable. Relaxed, even. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. If there even _was_ a time before this.

Clark trailed his hand up Bruce’s side till he smoothed his thumb over his jaw. Up his cheekbone. Across his eyelid. Down his nose. Along his lips until they parted. Bruce opened his eyes and looked at Clark’s soft expression. Clark smiled at him and scooted up to kiss him.

“I love you.” Clark’s nose brushed Bruce’s cheek. His breath heavy. “And you don’t have to say it back. It’s a lot. I know it’s a lot.”

Bruce traced the line of Clark’s jaw with his fingers.

“Thank you.”

Clark turned his head and kissed Bruce’s pale wrist.

_Clark._

Seconds ago, Bruce had been satisfied, but now his want surged anew. He rolled Clark over and kissed him hard.

It wasn’t until hours later that they collapsed, Bruce curled around Clark’s back. Bruce should have been exhausted, but he only felt more awake. He was happy. He was _happy._ And that struck something in him. The tension he had held for years fell slack. His chest fluttered. His eyes watered. The more he thought about it, the more his heart beat. He clenched his eyes closed and the tears came out. His breath shook, but he was silent. If Clark were an ordinary man, he never would have noticed. Half asleep, back turned. But as it was, he shifted and Bruce tensed behind him.

“...Are you-?” Clark started to turn around.

“You know I am. Don’t look at me.” Bruce wanted to bury his face in the pillow.

“Ok.” Clark pulled Bruce’s arms tighter around him. Bruce took a shaky breath behind him. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

_Not particularly._

“Give me a second.” Bruce closed his eyes.

_Clark… I think I love you and that’s something I didn’t think I was capable of. I thought you were wasting your time loving me. Maybe you are. Maybe you are wasting your time. But I think I do love you._

Bruce flattened his hand across Clark’s chest.

_I never thought I could care about someone like this. I never thought I could love someone. I didn’t see it when it was happening but it was so easy. I never thought it would be easy._

Bruce squeezed his arms around Clark and Clark squeezed back.

_It was so easy and I had to go and make things difficult. I’m sorry. Clark, I’m sorry._

_I never thought I could love you the way you love me. I never thought I could love you. But I do. Shit. I do._

Clark stroked the back of Bruce’s arm.

_Dammit just open your mouth and say something he’s waiting._

Bruce swallowed.

“I… Never thought I could… feel this way. About someone.”

Clark lifted one of Bruce’s hands to his mouth and kissed his palm.

“I love you, too.” Clark’s smile filtered his words.

“Thought I was cursed.” Bruce relaxed closer into him, wet cheek pressing against the side of his neck.

“I used to think that too sometimes.” Clark threaded their fingers together.

They lay in silence for awhile, just feeling each other breathe. Bruce rubbed his thumb back and forth on Clark’s hand.

“Bruce?”

“Mm?”

“Do you think… That you not having a mark… is because of me?”

_No._

“Do _you_ think that?”

Clark played with the hair on Bruce’s arm.

“It’s a nice thought isn’t it?”

“It’s nice. But unrealistic.”

“The world gets stranger every day, Bruce.”

“True. It doesn’t matter though. If we match because of some…” Bruce sighed, “ _divine intervention_ or if it’s just coincidence.”

“Oh?”

“We can ‘match’ because we choose to. Because it feels right… Humans think they have everything figured out, but... I think the Kryptonians had this one up on us.”

“I thought it sounded ‘chaotic?’” Clark teased.

“I still think that. But it has more weight to it, doesn’t it? That we don’t have a guarantee, but choose to trust each other anyway.”

“Aw, you trust me?”

“With my life.”

“And you’re alright with that?”

“Yes. I like you, Clark.”

“You like me?”

“Yes. Maybe even a lot.”

“Bruce, I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

Bruce huffed.

“I still have that kryptonite nearby…”

“It’s back in the cave and you wouldn’t dare.”

“Clark, as if I would only have _one_ piece, _and:_ try me.”

Bruce blinked and Clark had him pinned down, flat on his back, hands above his head.

“What was that?” Clark smirked.

Bruce licked his lips.

“I think I can still walk straight, Clark.”

Their lips met again… and again. When the two finally fell asleep it was with legs knotted together and sheets left tangled beneath them.

* * *

 

Clark woke up slow and steady. Like the heartbeat next to him. Pulsing soft under his hand. Bruce was still asleep. Bruce was still there. Not a hastily written note. Bruce.

Bruce in the cool even light of dawn, face fully relaxed, mouth open slightly. Clark wanted to memorize every detail.

Bruce didn’t stir until the first peak of gold sunlight. His brows grew taut and he stretched with a grunt, turning his head away from the window.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Clark smirked.

Bruce grunted, eyes still closed. Clark kissed his frown.

“This is the first time I’ve woken up before you.” _And you weren’t having a nightmare._

“No.” Bruce smoothed a hand on Clark’s neck. “I woke up earlier.”

Clark blinked.

“You stayed.” He couldn’t help but sound surprised.

“I was comfortable.”

Clark smiled and kissed him on the cheek, then laid on his chest. Bruce stretched beneath him and settled his arm around his back.

They breathed each other in and molded into the bed.

 

* * *

 

The river between Gotham and Metropolis is clear and flowing. The sky is a black sheet marked only by the full moon. Bruce is crouched on top of an old gargoyle. He’s missing a gauntlet. His bare wrist open to the night air. Nightwing lands beside him.

“Bruce, you found him!”

The building starts to shake and the gargoyle crumbles beneath him. Dick smiles and turns his back. Bruce reaches for his grappling-hook. It isn’t there. Before Bruce can panic he’s scooped up in strong arms.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Clark smiles down at him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Bruce wraps an arm around Clark’s neck and leans into a kiss.

Clark holds him by his waist as they fly higher and higher. Gotham is lit up beneath them. Artificial stars twinkling. Bruce can’t imagine being anywhere else.

They fit each other.

Like hand and glove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn. It’s been a journey… and it’s not over yet. I was originally going to have another chapter for an epilogue, but as I was outlining it I realized I had much more than just a chapter left to write. And now I’m making a sequel. Surprise! If you guys have any suggestions of characters you’d like to see/challenges for Bruce and Clark to face together, make sure to comment because it helps me come up with ideas!
> 
> The title of the fic is directly from World’s Finest #289 (1983) where Superman tells Batman: “We’re like night and day, you and I, and yet we’re closer than we realize, closer than twins, because we complement each other. We fit each other… like hand and glove.”  
> If you haven’t read this comic (I found it randomly when googling images of “Batman crying”), seriously, look it up. I still can’t believe it’s a canon DC comic.
> 
> Lastly, I’d like to thank the Clark Kent to my Bruce Wayne. I’ve put a lot of us and what I’ve learned from you in here and I’m so so so happy to know you. We’re just getting started.


End file.
